Bowing Out Gracefully
by IHateSnakes
Summary: Bowing Out Gracefully is a short story centered on a few of the characters from my earlier Bridge to Terabithia FanFic, A Life Rescued. The story explores the lives of a few young adults and how they approach friendship and intimacy.
1. Chapter 1: Woodbridge

**Bowing Out Gracefully**

Chapter 1  
Woodbridge

_To be perfectly honest, I'm not certain this story qualifies as a Fan Fiction; the characters' names are the only link to the original Paterson book, but just to be safe: The world of Terabithia belongs to Katherine Paterson and her publishers. I'm just playing around in it for a while. Sadly, no profit can be received from this story. _

Bowing Out Gracefully_ is a short story centered on a few of the characters from my earlier Bridge to Terabithia FanFic, _A Life Rescued_. The story explores the lives of a few young adults and how they approach friendship and intimacy when they find themselves out of their usual element – and usual relationships. The story is Rated M for Mature and is definitely __not__ intended for younger audiences; it contains descriptive narration and dialog about human sexual interaction, naughty language, and mature themes. Please do not proceed if you do not like to read about physical intimacy in stories, or you think you might be offended. Constructive comments are always welcome._

_Background: Near the end of the summer before his second year at college, Jesse Aarons is struggling to make his plans for an education - and life - a reality. Jesse and Leslie have finished high school and gone their separate ways, Leslie to Hollywood and Jesse to the Massachusetts Art Institute. The status of their relationship, however, was left vague; neither wanted to part ways but both needed to take the path they felt compelled to follow. _

_In the Epilogue of ALR, you learned that Jesse & Leslie ultimately end up together. But what happened in the years between high school and their reunion? Who were Jesse and Leslie 'with' during that time?_

_IHateSnakes, May 2009_

* * *

The sun had been up for an hour when the alarm clicked on and woke its charge from a nondescript dream. She seldom recalled her dreams. The only evidence that she had dreamt, really, was waking up refreshed, a sign that her mental and physical health had been renewed over the past eight hours.

A brief rub around her eyes removed the normal sandy build-up. She pivoted in bed, set her legs over the edge. Her feet met the cool hardwood floor and she stood. Behind the blinds, the windowpanes were translucent with a thick coat of condensation. This, she knew, was due to the high morning humidity and cool air. She didn't let her mind wander off to think about other consequences of a chilly morning.

Showering, dressing and light breakfast preceded the final preparation that was performed back in her room. Each item was taken from her backpack, set on the now neatly made bed, and then returned to the backpack after examination: A change of clothes, two bathing suits, two sets of swimming goggles, cap, suntan lotion, two towels, washcloth and a bag of more personal items. She would grab a light windbreaker as she left the house, but doubted it would be needed.

Everything was ready.

Back in the kitchen, she sat on the cold linoleum floor and put on socks and shoes for the three-quarter mile jog to the pool. She had just risen to stretch when her father, a tall, thin, middle-aged man walked in.

"Big day today, huh?"

The girl smiled and began her daily routine to prevent strained muscles. One in her back had been particularly bothersome. Of all days, today she did not want it to distract her.

"You coming by later, Daddy?"

With a faux-injured expression the man said, "You know I wouldn't miss it. Good luck."

Another loving smile and the girl went back to her routine. She was not interrupted again - her father knew how important single-mindedness was to her goal. Five minutes later, without another word, she walked out into the cool, damp air that was rising off the Potomac River and jogged into the foggy morning.

Few people were up at seven on a Saturday morning in Woodbridge, but those who were might have noticed the young, athletic blonde passing by. She seemed to float down the street with a barely noticeable bounce in her step. Her long, wavy hair, pulled into a ponytail, trailed behind. Muscular shoulders and upper body spoke of her exercise routine. And her legs, nearly as trim and powerful, carried her through the maze of neighborhood streets to an unseen destination. She passed a few people who knew her: They waved, she nodded.

Arriving at the Swim Club, the jogger was met with a small chorus of greetings. As she walked around to cool down, and stretched, she spoke to them in short, concise phrases. Then, ready for the real activity of the day to begin, she waved at her friends and entered the changing room. Five minutes later, in her suit, cap and goggles, and rinsed-off, she walked onto the pool deck.

All around her were swimmers and adults preparing for the Saturday morning competition. In one corner, the helpers at the awards table were sorting out ribbons. Another spot held a small but growing group of adults looking at stopwatches. Feedback from the sound system made everyone cringe and surely woke up some neighbors. The coach, a cheery woman with prematurely gray hair, was directing some of the younger swimmers in the correct method of installing the five lane dividers. And in a far corner, a shy eleven-year-old was pleading with her parents to not make her swim.

A few more stretches, these more centered on the upper body, and the swimmer jumped into the water. From that point on, no one spoke to her. She swam a medley of strokes at varying speeds then left the water to buy an energy bar at the now busy concession stand.

Two and a half hours later, more than two hundred spectators looked on from the canopied pool deck as the six swimmers for the next event jumped into the water. Not a few of the male adolescents (and adults) present around the pool – from both teams - gawked at the young women. All six were quite lovely when fully dressed: In their bathing suits, they were positively distracting.

Some of the swimmers adjusted their goggles, others their cap; all stretched and breathed deeply to build up extra oxygen in their blood. A few looked nervously at their competition.

Finally, the judges, timers, referees, and dozens of other volunteers needed to make a swim meet work signaled they were ready.

The announcer looked at the _Meet-Sheet_, his guide to each race, and broadcast the information for everyone present: "Event twenty-two: Girls fifteen to eighteen, fifty meter backstroke. In lane one, swimming for Woodbridge, and in her FINAL individual competition, _GRACE JACOBS_." Wild cheers from the crowd and her teammates caused the announcer to pause before continuing the lineup. In the pool, Grace's concentration was on the sprint before her and she scarcely noticed the accolade.

In the spectators' area, Al Jacobs looked wistfully at his daughter. Grace had been swimming for many years and risen to the pinnacle of the Northern Virginia Swim League's competitive standings. In Division 1, the Woodbridge WaveRiders could boast the league's best team. Twelve of their swimmers had been selected for regionals. Three represented NVSL in the State Championships and Grace was one of the best.

Beside Al, his son, Tom, cheered loudest for his younger sister; he was visiting unannounced to surprise her and carried a spray of roses for after the meet. The siblings' relationship was close and loving, but also stormy at times for Grace usually had a Puritanical outlook on life – a philosophy that her brother did not share. The family had lost its mother five years earlier, but found love and support to help them through the tragedy among a close-knit group of friends in the small rural mountain town of Lark Creek during their father's three year assignment in Roanoke, Virginia. Today, Tom looked on with affection as his soon-to-be nineteen-year-old sister prepared for her last chance to break the pool and league record – one she herself had set the previous summer.

For a moment, Tom was distracted by the sight of a light-olive-skinned young man watching his sister and he nearly missed the start of the race. The loud electronic buzzer, used to set the swimmers, refocused his attention. In the water, all six racers had planted their feet on the wall and take hold of the ankles of six teammates standing, facing away, at the edge of the pool deck.

"Fifty meter backstroke…"

The six bent their elbows and knees, ready to spring backwards. Only Grace's stance was different: Her feet were lower in the water to provide more of an upward thrust. In a second, her signature start would display the reason for the alternate stance.

"…Swimmers, take your mark…"

_Buzz…_

At the sound – seemingly in anticipation - Grace sprang backward and _upwards_, leaping out of the pool in a long-perfected and polished arch that immediately set her half a length in front the other five swimmers. Then she snapped her body straight again, acting as a surfboard, just as she returned to the water. She seemed to glide on the surface like a dolphin. The race was barely two seconds old and she had gained _another_ half-body length as she passed under the near line of flags.

To those familiar with the intricacies of the backstroke, Grace Jacobs was the picture of perfection. Two muscular legs, with knees straight, sprayed volumes of water as the scissor kicks played their designed role. But it was the upper half of the young woman's body that mattered more and she flexed her right shoulder fifteen degrees and into the first of many strokes, hands slightly cupped and fingers together for maximum thrust. Her face was focused on an unseen spot above until she passed beneath the far line of flags. One, two, three more strokes, then she rotated onto her stomach, glided a meter, and performed a perfect flip-turn. Powerful legs shot her forward from the wall and the cycle began again.

By the time Grace had finished the fifty meters and returned to the starting end of the pool she was a full eight seconds in front of the second-place swimmer in lane three, her close friend and teammate Jackie Evans. Only moderately winded from the sprint, she pulled off her cap and let a cascade of lightly sun-bleached golden hair spill out. Next she took off her goggles. Only then did her competition begin to reach the end of their races. She gave the girl in lane two a friendly hug – they had been swimming against each other for three years - and leapt out of the water to the cheers of her teammates and admirers. This she _did_ acknowledge with a small wave, blushing in modest embarrassment.

While the judges registered the official times, the Woodbridge Swim Club team gathered around their friend. One in particular worked his way forward, and for the first time that day Grace frowned.

"Gracie! Congratulations," her teammate exclaimed, pulling her into a tight, full-body embrace.

"Ish," she whispered into his ear, smiling, "let me go or you'll be choking on your nuts." He released the hold, assisted by a discreet poke in his solar plexus, but kept eye contact and winked at his ex-girlfriend. She ignored it and turned to find the event times now being posted. Before she saw them, however, deafening cheers told her she had done it: she had broken the record.

"_Gracie! You did it_," Jackie shouted, and was the first to smother her in a more welcomed bear hug. "Twenty-nine point-oh-three! That's two-tenths faster than the _boys'_ record!"

_And more than half a second off mine from last year_, Grace realized, quickly doing the math in her head. Now she shouted, too, and pumped a fist into the air, accepting congratulations from everyone around.

But more than an hour and a half remained in the meet and she still had a two hundred meter medley relay and a hundred meter individual medley to swim in. The former had little chance of breaking any records, her team had lost its best breaststroker a couple weeks before and the later was not scored.

This had been her last significant race with the _Woodbridge_ _WaveRiders_, and as she walked to the deck to await the other events, a wave of melancholy washed over her. In a few weeks her classmates would be heading off to college, but she would not. Needing far more money than her educational savings trust fund contained, Grace would be working for a year to earn what she needed to attend one of her two choices of colleges: Cambridge or Radcliff. The Bio-Tech firm where she had worked over the summer, Saffron Labs, promised her a full-time position starting in September, so the next year would earn her enough to cover most of the balance of her tuition and boarding expenses.

Jackie sat down next to her and rubbed her back for warmth; the early July morning was uncommonly cool. "Regret not taking that scholarship now?"

"No, it was only a partial, and UCLA's biology program's not rated very highly."

Her friend conceded the point, having heard it many times before. "I'm going to miss you, Jakes. All these years coming in second…." She laughed loudly. "Always seeing your ass in front of me!"

Grace chuckled, turned, and gave Jackie a hug, not letting her friend spot the tears forming. She was, after all, _The Rock_ of the team, a moniker she'd earned four summers earlier when she had first joined the WaveRiders. She was always focused on performance and the teammate who later became her boyfriend, Ish, pinned the name on her.

"_I should have known then to stay away from him,"_ she breathed silently. Or so she thought.

"What's that?" asked Jackie.

"Oh, sorry, nothing," Grace mumbled.

By noon that last Saturday in July, it was all over. The WaveRiders had concluded another unbeaten season. Al Jacobs and his son watched Grace's friends, teammates, and even some of the competition wish her luck. Tom noticed, however, that Ish was lingering behind, and Al Jacobs had to put a hand on his shoulder when he started moving toward the darker-skinned boy.

"Tom, let them be. Gracie has to work this out on her own. You won't always be there for her, will you?" Gritting his teeth, he shook his head, sat down, and waited for his sister to join them.

A while later, having said her last goodbyes, Grace pointedly ignored Ish and started towards her father. When she noticed Tom, she smiled and broke into a run. Off on the other side of the pool a whistle blew and a guard called out, "_Walk!_" He was ignored, too.

"Tom! What are you doing here?" Then she saw the roses and her eyes widened. "For me?" Tom smiled, nodded, and gave her the flowers. Overcome, Grace leaned forward and gave her brother an awkward upper-body hug so as to not get him wet. It was only partly successful. When she pulled away, he had two round wet spots on his shirt. A group of Woodbridge High School seniors walked by just then. Tom knew them from the previous year and one called out: "Looks like you have a serious lactation problem, Tommy." They continued on, laughing. Tom gave them a one-finger salute in return.

Grace was blushing. "Sorry…let me get my things and we can go."

Father and son waited for Grace to change and then went to the local Sonic Drive-In for lunch, their traditional after-meet eating hole. Since they had been together a couple weeks earlier there was little family news to catch up on, though Tom did announce his plans to start looking into attending another college. He'd been griping about the University of Virginia's Botany program for a year and neither his dissatisfaction nor his pronouncement was a surprise.

Then he said, "I emailed Jess to remind him about next Friday, Dad. He's expecting you two after six. And he said to park in the driveway…his landlady doesn't drive." As Tom passed on the information, he stealthily watched his sister's reaction. As expected, she began to fidget and her face flushed. "So Gracie, are you looking forward to seeing your flame?"

A look of disgust crossed her face. "I couldn't care less about Ish, you know that."

"I meant Jesse Aarons," Tom said, winking at his father - who showed absolutely no sign of amusement. Tom's incessant teasing about the old and awkward friendship got on his nerves now and then.

"No! I mean yes, I haven't seen him in years," she rejoined unconvincingly. The day suddenly felt warmer to her. "Have you heard from Leslie lately?" she asked, trying to change the subject. "She hasn't answered my emails in months."

"And she won't, it all goes through her agency now. Unless she tells them otherwise, you're just another adoring fan."

"Oh."

"Besides, she's in New Zealand now filming the remake of some stupid 1980s TV movie. She's going to be in _Bumblefuck_, Africa after that."

Al Jacobs cleared his throat; his son, as usual, ignored the warning.

"Did you see her on the Cannes Film Festival replays?" Grace said no. "She was tight with that guy from…. Oh, what was that movie? Well, I'm sure you've read the stories in Entertainment Weekly."

"Yeah…poor Jess."

Tom wasn't certain of his sister's sincerity but nodded in agreement.

After a brief stop at the grocery store, the family returned home. Tom immediately took off again to see his current girlfriend, Al went to watch the news, and Grace went to shower off the remaining chlorine and prepare for dinner and a movie with Jackie and some other friends later that evening.

The hot water felt soothing on her body, and when she had finished washing, she turned down the water's volume to enjoy it longer. (This was a habit she found amusing: She could be in the pool all day and still feel the need to wind down afterwards in _more_ water.) The shower stall even had a molded seat so she could relax and let the warmth envelop her. There was also the detachable _Shower Massager_, a particularly welcome addition the previous winter when she had bruised her shoulder. It also provided other pleasing sensations with its pulsating spray.

Her conversation with Tom about Jesse disrupted her mental relaxation; it had also aroused her curiosity. Jesse Aarons had been something special for her, and she had some sort of bond with him almost from the time they'd met. Grace also believed that they would have made a great couple - except for Leslie Burke – against whom she bore no grudge. The two girls had become close friends, and even talked about their mutual feelings towards Jesse a few times. But Leslie shared more than the "usual" loving bond with Jesse, Grace knew; something linked them as no other couple she'd known.

_Saving a person's life can do that_, she admitted to herself.

Grace sighed and kept the water running on the top of her head. The bathroom had steamed-up and the damp heat was relaxing. More than once she had nearly fallen asleep sitting there. Her right arm and hand lay across her breasts for warmth.

Her thoughts returned to Jesse. What did Tom's revelation mean to her, if anything? Was Jesse available now? It had been three years since she had seen him. Would her trip to Boston change anything? And…how did Tom know so much about Leslie?

_No! Don't fall into that trap again, Grace. If something happens, it happens, but don't hope for or force anything._

During the past few minutes of cluttered thoughts, fatigue from the meet, and the refreshingly hot water, Grace's right hand had moved down from her breasts and found a spot far more sensitive and stimulating. She soon had to set down the _Shower Massager_ and clamp her left hand over her mouth: It would not due for her father to come knocking on the door if he heard her cry out. Moments later, her body arched into the same elegant curve she'd begun the race with earlier that day. Grace felt the twinge of a strained muscle in her back as her orgasm peaked.

Unlike her motion at the start of the race, however, her legs were not being held tightly together.


	2. Chapter 2: Boston

**Bowing Out Gracefully**

Chapter 2  
Boston

_Disclaimer: The world of Terabithia belongs to Katherine Paterson and her publishers; I'm just playing around in it for a while. Sadly, no profit can be received from this story._

Tepid water from a rusting showerhead washed away layers of sweat and grime – and the stink - accumulated during eight hours of hard physical labor in the hot August sun, but the spray did little to soothe the sore muscles that protested with every movement.

Jesse Aarons consoled himself by reminiscing on the first few weeks of work at the start of the summer. The memories from that period burst into his consciousness with each twinge of discomfort. Recollections of the excruciating pain he'd endured throughout his entire body seemed to further amplify what were now only nagging aches. The sounds of every cinderblock or stud or shovel full of debris he'd tossed into the trash chute came to mind, and it added an almost audible agony to memories of the physical ones.

The demolition work was long and physically brutal, but it paid well. Cash, under the table and untaxed, was what Jesse Aarons needed most at this point. The Massachusetts Art Institute (or MassArt as it was more commonly known), one of the top art colleges in the country, had given him a full scholarship but revoked all except the tuition due to budget cuts and the generally crummy state of the economy. The criminally high cost of living in downtown Boston had consumed a large chunk of the savings he'd accumulated before his first year. He could have boarded outside the city, but commuting would have been just as expensive and taken up time he didn't have to waste. Food, art supplies, clothing – all cost twice what they had in Lark Creek, and he still had three years of college ahead. His friends and family had warned him, but….

Now and then, a sympathetic professor invited him to dine at his or her house, but times were tough for everyone and Jesse learned how to stretch a dollar. On evenings and weekends, when the weather was nice, he would sit on the sidewalk near his flat and sketch for tips. The surfeit of talented artists so close to the school made charging a fee very bad business, so gratuities were requested instead and had ranged from nothing (from a smart-ass kid for a caricature) to a hundred dollars (offered by an aging vestryman for a detailed canvas of his church.) Jesse wondered whether _that_ tip was earned more from his artistic skill or nearly flawless eidetic memory of the building's detail – he drew the picture after a single glance at a photograph the man had shown him. There were also rumors of a rich medical school student paying generously for good art, but _that_ person had not come by Jesse, he was quite certain.

At nineteen, Jesse Aarons had grown into a rugged, handsome, tall - six foot two inch - muscular young man. His jet-black hair had become first wavy and then almost curly as he'd progressed through adolescence, and he hated it in spite of the compliments he received over the years. Haircuts were another unnecessary expense, however, so he let it grow to the point where he needed a ponytail. Pulled back this way, Jesse thought, it didn't look too bad. His new friends said he looked like Sam Adams.

The water beat steadily down on his neck and back as Jesse's mind wondered from subject to subject.

Three weeks before classes were to resume and he still did not have a flat mate – _that_ was a potential problem. Joe Turley, classmate, his first friend at MassArt, and now _former_ flat mate, had managed to flunk out, leaving him alone and lonely; not a state he wanted to continue entertaining. Fortunately, his lease made the property owner responsible for finding a new tenant, so Jesse was not saddled with paying double rent should everything fall through. Of course, it also meant that the old bat (his landlady, Mrs. Hill), could find anyone she wanted to fill the other bed. This was not a cheerful concept either if you knew Mrs. Hill. He had been wisely advised, however, not to panic. The flood of incoming freshmen was bound to bring in many good prospects, Jesse had been assured.

While looking at his rough and calloused hands, wishing he had invested in a good pair of work gloves weeks earlier, his thoughts briefly turned to Leslie Burke. But he set the mental images of her aside and ignored the bottle of hand lotion in the corner, not wishing to aggravate his muscles further, or rub himself raw, by masturbating – his decreasingly frequent response to her fading mental images.

Then he laughed dourly at how his _self-control_ was now derived more from evading physical pain than emotional and spiritual discipline.

Finishing the shower, Jesse reached for his worn towel and dried off, grimacing again at the ever-present tenderness. With the towel wrapped around his waist, he took out four Tylenol and washed them down with one of the _Coors Light_ he had in the noisy kitchen refrigerator, wrinkling his nose at the sour smell that filled the air whenever it was opened. A couple minutes later he was dressed in cut-offs and a reasonably clean t-shirt. Loose-soled loafers flapped with each step as he collected his pad and pencils to sit outside and sketch. But those plans were aborted when he noticed the diminished lighting out the window. On queue, thunder rumbled in the distance.

"_Shit!_" Jesse spat, a little too loudly. Through the return air register, he heard Mrs. Hill below muttering about his language. The last thing he wanted to do was sit around and watch TV. Without cable, he only had a handful of channels, none even remotely interesting. He considered surfing the net, but looking at his laptop saw that the storm had already knocked out internet access. He begrudgingly reached for the TV remote, and then stopped.

_Probably a bad idea_, he considered, _Leslie is in too many commercials to _not_ see her…. And at six-thirty, there's only news on the air._

So Jesse retreated to the kitchen and made two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, dodged dirty clothes and strewn books walking back to the living room, and lay on the old couch to eat. The meal was not satisfying, nor was it nutritious enough for the hard work he was doing, but he had to save money. The sparse fare was gone in a couple minutes.

Below, he heard Mrs. Hill's doorbell ring and the old woman grousing about something. He chuckled and briefly considered blowing some cigarette smoke through the register just to annoy her. He didn't smoke, and Mrs. Hill knew he didn't, so the half-witted hag was bound to be confused. Jesse smiled at the brief plan for mayhem but it was interrupted by a knock on his own door.

Once, at the start of his first year in Boston, he might have dreamed it was Leslie visiting, perhaps coming to stay with him, and giving up her budding career in film. But too much time had passed, and too few letters, instant messages, emails, and phone calls linked them. Jesse hadn't exactly given up on himself and Leslie, but in his estimation, it was just a matter of time. He couldn't afford to travel out west to see her, she was always away shooting, and the Burkes had temporarily moved to Los Angeles. Leslie would not be returning to Lark Creek any time soon. And the _Internet Movie Database_ showed she had three movies In Production or Shooting over the next year.

Their emotional separation had been long developing and gradual, not the traumatic break he'd endured the August before ninth grade. And unable to resolve their individual desires for post-high school life, the previous summer was a tense and troubled ten weeks as the physical separation loomed closer. He and Leslie had ended it by making love for the first time, but it was more of a sad farewell gesture than a new beginning.

There were days when her absence was most keenly felt, and this was one of those times.

A knuckle rapped at the door again shaking Jesse out of his reverie. "Okay, okay, give me a second," he replied, and none too courteously, expecting it was one of his friends from school. As he walked past the table and glanced at his laptop, he saw his internet service had been restored and the blinking _You Have Mail!_ icon reminded him of…_something_. Combing his hair back with his fingers, Jesse was seriously tempted to emit a loud, rude noise, but he opened the door first: This was a good choice.

"Hello, Jess, I thought we'd never find you," the man said in the fashion of a greeting. He held out his hand, which Jesse took after a few seconds to collect himself.

"Um, h-hi, Mr. Jacobs…Um, wow, what are you doing here?" But no sooner were the words out of his mouth than did Jesse realize he knew exactly why the father of his two friends from Lark Creek was standing in front of him. _That's what I forgot…You Have Mail! _"I mean…sorry, I forgot you were arriving…today. Gee, um, come in." As the tall graying man entered, Jesse looked onto the landing. "Where's Gracie?"

"She forgot something in the car…should be up any second."

Al Jacobs stepped hesitantly around the living room, looking at the condition of the flat. "Yes, I'd say you certainly forgot about us." But the admonishment was not harsh; in fact, Mr. Jacobs chuckled and picked up a pair of boxers from the floor next to the couch.

Jesse went crimson, and more so when he heard Grace Jacobs say with no small amount of humor, "I hope you don't expect me to do your laundry while we're in town."

Turning, he saw his friend for the first time in three years. He was speechless. Nearly soaked from the strengthening showers outside, her sharp figure – _much sharper than the last time we were together_ – was pleasantly amplified by the rain-dampened t-shirt covering her muscular shoulders, clinging to her breasts and equally well-trimmed abdomen. Her wavy sun-bleached blonde hair was just damp enough to look like she'd recently stepped from a bath. While Jesse's eyes bulged, Grace very calmly and collectedly approached, gave him a brief hug, and handed him a "care package."

Stammering, Jesse turned from father to daughter a couple times before gathering his wits. "Th-thanks…I am _so_ sorry, Grace, Mr. Jacobs, I _was_ expecting you, I just lost track of the days. My job keeps me busy until…"

"Jess, it's okay," Mr. Jacobs assured him as Grace went to stand beside her father. "Your mother said you've been burning the candle at both ends lately."

Finally having recovered from the mental lapse, Jesse smiled haltingly, took the boxers from Mr. Jacobs' hand and tossed them in the general direction of his bedroom. Then he picked up some other items strewn about and brushed the crumbs from his PBJs off the couch. "Um, have a seat," he directed as he carried an armful of clutter to another room. They did.

When Jesse returned to the living room, he reclined in the seat opposite his guests, directing his first comments towards Grace. "Welcome to Boston; Tom said you were going to check out a couple of the schools. Are you considering MassArt?"

"_Me?_" Grace laughed. "I'm still at the stick-people level. No, I want to look at Cambridge and Radcliffe, maybe Harvard, too."

"Well, then be sure to check out BU and BC, you know, since you're looking for a cheep education."

All three laughed at the facetious statement. Grace explained further. "I know, that's why I'm taking a year off, I need to earn more money."

The comment was made innocently, but Jesse saw Grace's father's face redden in embarrassment. He quickly said, "Don't I know it. All that money I had saved up evaporated last year."

"Yeah, that stinks about your scholarship. You look tired, Jess. Are you taking care of yourself?"

Jesse laughed kindly, replying, "Yes, Ma'am." Then he changed the subject. "Oh, happy birthday, Gracie. Have anything special planned?"

"No, not really, except…."

"_Except_ I was planning on taking both of you out to dinner tonight. Interested, Jess?"

The increasing patter of rain on the roof and another roll of thunder hid the gurgling in Jesse's stomach at the thought of a real meal. "Sure! Thank you."

Conversation went from family to cuisine. They settled on an Irish Pub a few blocks away. The rain was letting up so they chose to walk. Shortly thereafter, the three rose to leave. Grace excused herself to use the bathroom but returned seconds later. "I think I'll wait till we pass by a gas station."

Jesse muttered an apology and hurried his guests out the door.

With skies clearing, the Friday evening life in Boston began to pick up along Longwood Street. Jesse pointed out Harvard Medical School, some students he knew; a couple stopped to talk to him, one asking if Grace was "The cute blonde you dated." Fortunately, both Jesse and Grace were spared any embarrassment as the fellow had shown enough presence to speak quietly, and only to his classmate.

Passing Brookline Avenue, Jesse pointed out Fenway Park a few blocks to the east. One more block towards Cambridge and they saw The Old Brogue Pub. Jesse had only been there once, but its reputation was demonstrated by the gathering line of patrons. Then, seeing a bus pull into the neighboring parking lot, Jesse said he'd run ahead to get a place in line before the hoards arrived and sprinted off. Half way there, Grace caught up to him and started crossing the street when Jesse stopped, but found herself being yanked back to the curb by a strong hand holding tightly to her wrist. The blast of a car horn told the eighteen year old she had almost forfeited her chance to make nineteen.

"Grace, didn't you learn how to cross a street?" Jesse scowled and released her wrist.

Feeling immensely stupid, she apologized. "Sorry, we don't see this kind of traffic in Woodbridge."

"The drivers here are the worst in the country. Be careful."

Al Jacobs walked up and was about to say something harsher to his daughter when Jesse bolted again. This time he took Grace's hand and led her safely across the busy street. They got in line just in front of sixty senior citizens from the bus. Inside the Pub window, an older, sour looking waitress saw the accumulating crowd and mouthed silent obscenities. The two teens laughed at the sight.

Al Jacobs arrived a couple minutes later and said nothing, but did give his daughter a cross look. Grace rolled her eyes at Jesse and made an apology to her father.

The wait for a seat was thirty minutes and the three talked about events in their respective families. The last time Jesse had seen Grace was at his sister Brenda's wedding three years earlier. Though they had traded emails now and then, he relied mainly on her brother for family news.

When seated, conversation returned to Boston and the surrounding colleges. Jesse said they could meet in the morning and he would show them around the schools Grace wanted to see – he had seen them all himself over the past year. Since none of the schools would be open on Sunday, he suggested ending the visit doing a little sightseeing before they had to leave for the evening flight back to Washington. Grace and her father expressed their thanks and the meal went on.

Grace's curiosity about what was happening between Jesse and Leslie was peaked by his total lack of chatter of their friend, but she knew a noisy pub was not the venue for potentially emotional topics. As they strolled back to Jesse's flat, Grace asked her friend to walk her to the hotel at which she and her father were staying. It was only a mile away and he readily agreed, happy to be spending time with a close friend, even if she did remind him of Leslie.

The role of "The other cute blonde in your life," as his sister Ellie called Grace, had long ago stopped worrying him. The shock of seeing her earlier that evening, essentially a fully-grown woman, had already been attributed to his mixed-up emotions about Leslie. And while he had not abandoned all hope that he and Leslie would reunite, starting a relationship (or restarting a relationship) with Grace Jacobs was not a totally unappealing notion. As his friend bid her father goodbye, Jesse stood back and appraised the woman before him; he liked what he saw and felt a stir in his body that no female other than Leslie had induced in over a year.

When Al Jacobs had driven off, Jesse walked up to Grace. "On your own at last. It scared the shit out of me last summer when I came up here." Grace gave him a slightly confused look. "Sorry, bad joke. Which way is the hotel?"

"Let's sit here for a while, Jess," Grace said, pointing to the porch. "I want to talk to you...about...uh..."

"About Leslie?"

"Well, yes. What's going on between you two?" she asked as gently as she knew how. They sat down on the front steps.

"Nothing...literally. I haven't heard from her since last February so I guess that's it for us." Jesse said this without rancor, but the finality of the statement hurt more than he expected it would. He turned away and cleared his throat before continuing. "She wanted to do her thing and I wanted to go to college. It's shi...um, crappy that three thousand miles are keeping us from doing them together. Maybe it was just supposed to be like that." Jesse trailed off, trying not to let his eyes tear up.

"I'm sorry, Jess," Grace said, placing a hand on his arm for a few seconds. She knew he was hurting.

They sat in silence for a while before Jesse spoke up. "What about you? Anyone special in your life? Tom said you were seeing some guy the last couple years."

Grace snorted. "Yeah, right! That was Ish - Ignatius, my great _Latin Lover_. We split up long before senior prom." Off Jesse's questioning look she added, "Let's just say I have a much higher standard of morals than he does." Grace was glad to see Jesse smile at that. "Hey! I heard from Mel and Claire Haskell last week. Tim and Julie are back together...again. It sounds like it might work this time. Julie's finishing up a movie and then moving to be near Tim."

"Why? Is she tired of acting?"

"Her last two films were flops and she probably doesn't think it worth the effort."

"Yeah, Leslie said that once last year. It's a lot more work than people realize."

Wordlessly Grace nodded.

Another long silence followed as the evening turned slowly to night, though it was hardly noticeable with all the streetlights. Grace finally said she should be getting back to the hotel and Jesse jumped up, holding out his hand to help her. After she stood, Jesse held on a few seconds longer, noticing the effect it had on him. When he left her at the hotel entrance they embraced again, but longer and more meaningfully that earlier in the day.

* * *

Jesse Aarons woke Saturday morning feeling better than he had in a long time. As he brushed his teeth, shaved, dressed, and performed the myriad of other morning chores, Jesse realized it was the contact with Grace and her father the previous evening that was the fount of his good spirits. Cringing at a shooting pain in his right shoulder, he was reminded that physical comfort was definitely not what was making him feel good.

At eight sharp, a rap on his door announced the arrival of the Jacobs. They walked to the nearest subway station at Roxbury Crossing and exited a short time later at the Harvard Square stop, centrally located to the three schools Grace wanted to visit. The next six hours were filled with whirlwind tours, speedy interviews, and reading a collection of literature they had been provided with by each institution. There was a brief respite for lunch, but it was not until Grace had concluded her last interview at Cambridge that anyone truly relaxed. Jesse and Mr. Jacobs, when not with Grace, had been checking out the security and amenities of Cambridge and Radcliffe. They never made it to Harvard, but by mid-afternoon, Grace said she had selected Cambridge, making a stop at the third campus superfluous.

Father and daughter spent the next half hour scrambling to fill out some forms for Cambridge before the admissions office closed at four. With fifteen minutes to spare, Grace raced off on her own, flush with excitement, to turn in papers for early acceptance to the next school year. Jesse watched her, amused by her enthusiasm.

And Al Jacobs watched Jesse.

"Jess, what's the situation with you and Leslie? Grace said you two hadn't spoken for a while."

With more certainty than he'd felt the night before Jesse explained the situation, declaring the romance over. Al Jacobs, however, was not totally convinced.

"Are you seeing anyone now?" he asked, as nonchalantly as possible. Jesse however had learned his lesson years before.

"No, sir. And I wouldn't hurt Grace again. She's smart and really pretty. She won't have trouble finding someone better than me."

_Right...but it's you she wants_, Al Jacobs suspected. "Maybe you could introduce her to some of your friends?"

"Yeah, sure, Mr. Jacobs. But she has a whole year before she comes back. A lot can happen."

"Hmm…I suppose. And Jess, you're an adult now, please call me Al. All this 'Mr. Jacobs this' and 'Mr. Jacobs that' makes me feel older than I want to." Jesse acknowledged the request.

"Where is that girl now?" Al muttered, looking at his wristwatch. Grace had been gone for about twenty minutes at this point and the buildings would be closing soon, so Jesse and Al walked to the Admissions Office to find her, and find her they did. Just inside the doors, Grace stood talking excitedly with a middle-aged woman wearing a lab coat. Knowing she was going to study biology, Jesse guessed this was one of the professors she had run into. He and Mr. Jacobs stepped back and let her finish the conversation. That happened a quarter hour later, but she did not exit the building alone. Instead, she was nearly dragging the highly amused woman they had seen her speaking with earlier.

"Dad! This is Mrs. Delaney, she's the Assistant Dean of the Biology Department." And then, nearly jumping with excitement, added, "She wants to hire me to work in the lab! Can you believe it? Jess, Dad, isn't it great?"

While Grace tried to calm down, twirling about like a young schoolchild, Mrs. Delaney introduced herself, confirming the offer. "Your daughter's grades and references are excellent, Mr. Jacobs. I'm familiar with Saffron Labs, her current employer. If they give a good recommendation I would not hesitate to hire her."

"Mrs. Delaney, this is a generous offer," Al Jacobs began, frowning at his daughter. "But we live in Virginia and Grace has a year before she moves up here, providing she even gets in." Then turning to his daughter, "I don't want to throw water on your party, sweetheart, but you don't even have a place to live."

Jesse watched on with amusement while Grace pooh-poohed and answered every obstacle her father brought up. And he could see that Mrs. Delaney was impressed with the girl. Hell, _he_ was impressed with her, too. But then she said something that changed things.

"I could stay with Jess, Daddy! I mean, until I found a place of my own." Then she looked at Jesse. "Would that be okay, Jess?"

Both father and friend said "_No!_" simultaneously and the girl's face fell. "_Jesse Aarons_, why not? I'll even clean up the place for you while I'm there."

Al Jacobs said no again, and so did Jesse, but the offer did give him pause. Then Mrs. Delaney spoke up. "Mr. Jacobs, I'll let you and Grace work this out. She has my number." Then she turned to Jesse. "Are you Jesse Aarons, the illustrator? I thought so. You must be over at MassArt. I've seen a couple of your early drawings at Virginia Tech; you're a talented artist. Good luck in your studies." And after another round of handshakes, she turned and walked away.

The subsequent silence lasted all of five seconds, and then Grace restarted her supplication. The conversation – or negotiation, Jesse was not sure which it was – lasted until they found a place to eat dinner just across the Charles River, off Harvard Way. The college deli and bar type of establishment, called _Misfits,_ served large sandwiches, soups, and sodas in small, uncomfortable booths. Jesse thought there couldn't be anything better, but then again, for him a meal with meat was something to celebrate. And Al Jacobs insisted on paying which made it all the better.

When the meal was over, Grace picked up where she had left off, trying to change her father's mind, but made little headway. Jesse, becoming annoyed with his friend's whining, eventually told her, definitively, that she couldn't stay with him and it was too expensive living alone. This finally shut Grace up, but Jesse could tell she was hurt. In a moment of sympathy, he offered to take her around town for a couple more hours and show her his favorite haunts. Al Jacobs, delighted to have a break from his daughter for a while, readily agreed and immediately took a cab back to the hotel before Grace changed her mind, leaving the couple standing at Harvard Stadium discussing plans for the evening.

"So, what do you want to do? There's a huge cemetery back over the river. It's a favorite hang-out for the college crowd."

Grace blinked, not sure if Jesse was serious. Then she saw him smiling. "No thanks, Jess; let's just walk back towards the hotel."

"It's about three miles," he warned.

"Yeah? I can make it if you can." Obviously still irritated with him for shooting down her plans, Grace took off leaving Jesse behind. He gave her some distance until she started to take a wrong turn. Catching up, Jesse saw she had been crying and apologized.

"Gracie, you gotta know it won't work. I mean, I'd love to have you as a flat mate, but.... I just think it's a bad idea."

"Why, Jess? Because I'm a girl, or because of what happened a few years ago?"

"_No!_"

"I think you're afraid of us being together."

"What? Why would I be afraid that? Listen, Grace, even if I thought it would work, your father would _never_ allow it. He's still pissed at me about, um, us…from before."

"Daddy will let me do it if you will," she stated stubbornly.

"No."

"Why not?"

_Good question._ Jesse tried to drop the subject, and it worked for a few minutes. The Grace saw him taking some Tylenol.

"You okay? You're not having migraines, are you?"

"No, this is because of my job," he answered, stretching his arms and back. "It can get me pretty sore some times."

Grace looked at him with concern. "You know, Jesse Aarons, you look like shit warmed over. I bet you've had more decent meals in the past twenty-four hours than you've had all summer. You place is a mess...."

"I like it that way," Jesse began to protest.

But Grace took his left hand and pointed to the rough skin on its palm. "_Look!"_ she snapped, holding the hand tightly when he tried to pull it away. "This high-paying work you're doing is destroying your livelihood."

"Huh?"

"Your _hands_, Jess, your _hands!_ How are you going to draw with smashed fingers and calluses this big?"

"And how are _you_ going to fix that, Grace?" Jesse asked, his voice rising, too. "If I can keep up the work the rest of this summer, and next, I'll have the money I need to finish. My hands will be fine...I'll buy some good gloves, okay?"

After a while, Jesse tried bringing up a neutral subject, his friend's brother, Tom. "How does Tom like UVA? Is he staying in Charlottesville all summer?"

"He likes the town, but I think he's disappointed with the Botany program, he's mentioned transferring to Virginia Tech, or Texas A&M. This summer he's been home a lot of weekends."

Tom had not related this to Jesse in his last email. "Oh, why? Homesick?"

Grace laughed. "No, girl-sick. Wait, don't you know?" Jesse looked at her blankly. "God, my brother is such a jerk at times. Tom's been going out with Maddie Keane for about six months."

"Maddie? Little Maddie? Isn't she kinda young for him?"

"Young?" Grace guffawed, "when has that ever stopped him? But, no, she's fifteen or sixteen now…I don't remember. You knew they were friends, didn't you?"

"Yeah, since Lark Creek. I mean, since Terri died." Jesse turned away thinking of the terrible summer before high school when the youngest Keane girl committed suicide after she found herself pregnant.

"Yeah, he helped her through a lot of that after we moved to Woodbridge. I think he might have wanted to, you know, get together with her sooner but she was still too young." Pausing, Grace gathered her thoughts about her brother. "You wouldn't recognize him when he's with her. He's actually a pretty civilized guy."

"I guess I shouldn't be surprised. Grace, he isn't, um…I mean, he's behaving himself with her, isn't he?"

"Surprisingly, yes he is. I overheard him and Daddy talking about her last winter and he was told not to lay a hand on her unless he wanted to see her institutionalized. I think that scared the shit out of him. I've never seen him do more than hold Maddie's hand, and give her the occasional kiss goodnight. And Jen approves, so I guess it will be okay."

"Imagine that!" Jesse mused. Grace smiled, too.

Conversation turned to their mutual friends from Grace's three years in Lark Creek, and while she had kept in touch with many of them, Jesse had a few surprises. "You heard about our old friends Gary Fulcher and Ricky Manning?"

"Yeah. They were real ass holes from what I heard, but you still hate to hear bad things like that about someone."

Jesse found it hard to generate even that much sympathy for his one-time tormentors. "Hoager turned out ok. He's in the Middle East now; Iran, I think."

Grace stopped and turned to her friend. "There you are, Jess, people change." Then she slapped him playfully on the chest. "Don't be so sour about people; you'll be happier in life."

Jesse smiled and nodded, recalling a time many years earlier when Leslie had slapped him in the chest in the same playful fashion, and he'd almost done it back to her. Grace saw the cheer leave his face. "What is it, Jess?" she asked softly.

"Oh…nothing, I just thought of…Leslie. Something you did reminded me of her."

"Sorry."

"No, it's my problem, Gracie. I shouldn't have even brought it up." Then seeing they were passing near his flat, he asked, "Want to come up to my place for a while and have a beer?"

She froze, more than a little startled by the invitation. "Oh! Uh, I don't like beer too much, but I guess I can come up for a while." Grace realized it might be a good chance to show Jesse they could remain restrained around each other. It worked, though Grace wondered, as she returned to her hotel room late that night, if this was a good thing.

* * *

As might be expected, Al Jacobs did not give in to his daughter's renewed pleas the following morning. Not wishing to spoil the day, he told her flatly that it would not work even though Jesse Aarons was probably one of the few he _would_ trust with her safety. Grace finally conceded defeat and gave up and all the three spent the balance of the morning avoiding the topic and touring the town.

Jesse rode the subway with the Jacobs to Logan International Airport mid-afternoon; he and Grace parting with an affectionate embrace. Al shook Jesse's hand and thanked him for his time that weekend. As he and his daughter walked to the security screening area, he looked back and saw Jesse watching them, or more accurately, watching Grace.


	3. Chapter 3: Leslie's Auckland Interlude

**Bowing Out Gracefully**

Chapter 3  
Leslie's Auckland Interlude

_Disclaimer: The world of Terabithia belongs to Katherine Paterson and her publishers; I'm just playing around in it for a while. Sadly, no profit can be received from this story._

Leslie Burke's first film, _The Father's Helper_, a short drama about a man and his daughter who took turns caring for each other during the Spanish Influenza in 1918 while the rest of their family died, had brought her international acclaim. Another new actor, Adric Webber, made a brief appearance in the film but spent as much time with Leslie as was allowed between scenes. As the filming progressed they became close friends, one of her few true male friends. Whenever they were both in Los Angeles they got together to talk about their experiences in the industry. In spite of her initial hesitation to become close to another boy, Leslie knew she could trust Adric and opened her heart to him. He listened intently and provided the oft needed shoulder to cry upon, a frequent occurrence in the first four months of her separation from Jesse Aarons.

The two long-time friends had remained in fairly frequent contact through the fall and winter, but as that changed she relied more on her new friend for companionship and the demands of the industry increased. Adric knew all about Jesse, and he had no conscious romantic designs on Leslie, but did look forward to being around her with ever-increasing anticipation. When Leslie went out of the country to film _Two Troubled Teens_ with Jack Harrow, Adric hoped Leslie would not be another flighty young female movie star and take up with her co-star where she had left off with him. Judging by the rumors circulating, this wish did not come true, and was reinforced when Adric saw Leslie and Jack together in Cannes and heard more rumors about a steamy affair between them.

Between her return from Cannes, and Leslie's departure for New Zealand, Adric had avoided her, ignored her phone calls, and made excuses to cut short conversations whenever they ran into each other. He felt childish in these activities, but also betrayed and used. Leslie was not the first girl to toy with him, but he promised himself she would be the last. The day Leslie left for Auckland, Adric met her at the airport – a sign, _she_ was certain, that they would remain friends. Instead, Adric lambasted her for the coldness of her personality, her lapses in judgment, and her complete disregard for anyone other than herself. Stunned, Leslie couldn't even think of a reply before Adric walked away.

A few people standing around them thought the young man had hit pretty close to the mark.

The lengthy flight south was difficult for the actress for a number of reasons. Foremost was her brother's health. Jimmy had been a bubbly, lively child until a few months earlier when he began to fatigue easily and become ill frequently. The diagnosis was leukemia. The terrorist attack on Washington years before promised to kill far more people from the long-term effects of radiation than the few thousand immediately lost from the fizzled nuclear blast. Jimmy was, statistically, a casualty of the attack, though there was no way to prove it. The initial treatment for the child put his cancer into remission, but it didn't last long and he deteriorated rapidly. If this second session did not work his only other option was a bone marrow transplant, and both of Jimmy's siblings were perfect matches to donate. Leslie hated leaving the states in case she was needed in a hurry, but her agent had skillfully, and with no small degree of deception, convinced Bill and Judy that abandoning the shooting at its present stage could seriously damage their daughter's career. They doubted this was completely true but told her to go anyway.

Almost equally as troubling was Leslie's guilt-ridden parting conversation with Adric. There _was_ a lot of truth to his accusations, but not the way he understood them. Her cold mannerisms were her defense against unwanted advances. Moreover, the debacle with Jack Harrow was a symptom of a larger problem, not the problem itself; that was inches away, in a plastic cup on the tray in front of her. Long overseas flights and insane shooting schedules had taken a toll on Leslie. She fell into the habit of using sleeping pills at night and alcohol during the day to relax. She was normally discreet about this, but it was getting out of hand. To her credit, however, she realized the problem before it became an addiction.

Leslie was also troubled that she and Adric had become such good friends and that her problems must be very obvious for the normally calm young man to have lashed out as he had. She paused and thought of how Jesse Aarons would have addressed the situation to her - and felt as if her heart would stop. She could not remember how he would have acted or what he would have said. The emotional bindings she had long enjoyed with him were fading, or more accurately, were being smothered by the life she was now leading.

The 747 droned on. Leslie reclined the first class seat and took a sleeping pill to try to block out the mish-mash of thoughts going through her mind. The recent prescription, she saw, was already down to the last pill. A nasty headache was her first sensation when she awoke eleven hours later as the airliner began its descent into Auckland.

* * *

Two weeks later, Leslie gazed reproachfully at the bowl of cherries delivered to her suite by one of the kitchen staff. It seemed a personal accusation and an inappropriate metaphor. Picking up one of the diminutive berries, Leslie popped it into her mouth hoping something in her appetite had changed over the years and that she might like them now. She did not. (If not baked in a pie she cared little for cherries.) It was slightly under-ripe and too sour to eat so she spit the partially masticated glob into the toilet where it sank, waiting to be flushed away. Leslie immediately obliged.

It had taken a week to convince the hotel staff to forgo deliveries of all the flowers and fruit bowls being sent to the room. She despised wasting food and was allergic to many of the exotic flowering plants of New Zealand. When she complained to her manager, Jerry Cline, he offered to instruct the staff to bring up only one item a day and send the rest to local hospices and nursing homes, after removing the cards from her fans, of course. Leslie loved the idea and Cline made it so.

Returning to the spacious living room in her suite following another long, frustrating, and wholly unproductive day of filming, Leslie flopped into an overstuffed leather chair and took off her shoes. She wrinkled her nose at the mildewy scent emanating from her socks. Two solid weeks of rain had left everyone soaked and in a sour mood. She needed a shower badly, but one of the Director's gophers, Kevin Houston, a rotund 30-ish hippy leftover would be by at any moment to bring her the latest script revision - and leer at her. If she started bathing now he would undoubtedly arrive and make an excuse to barge in on her privacy.

_Shower curtain or no, this is one actress he's not going to get near when nude._

She turned her head, burying her face in the chair, letting the more pleasant smell of the cowhide distract her senses. Leslie shivered. It was times such as these when she wished her mother or father had made the trip with her. But with Jimmy starting another round of chemotherapy, Leslie did not have the heart to ask one of them to be so far from the seven-year-old.

Houston was just one of the many people Leslie had come to hate in the film industry. With the assistance of her friend, Julie Summers, she had been prepared for most of the creeps and letches they both worked around. In Los Angeles, the daily routine of running about to change costumes took on an entirely new meaning. When Julie found a pinhole camera in her changing room the year before, she had nearly quit – and Julie was nowhere near as private or modest as Leslie was.

A heavy knock on the door told her Houston had arrived. He didn't bother waiting for an invitation to enter, he just walked in and handed Leslie the rewrite. It was obvious he was disappointed she was still full clothed, but uncharacteristically, he made no excuse to stay, leaving after only one or two indiscreet glances at her chest and legs.

When she was alone again, Leslie – surprisingly - found herself a bit disappointed in Houston's seeming lack of interest. She cupped a hand over each of the mounds on her chest as if measuring them, wishing she had inherited more of her mother's build. She knew there were many excellent actresses less endowed than herself, but she was always painfully self-conscious when make-up handed her falsies, or other prosthetics to enhance her breasts. Their excuse of _dramatic variety_ only worked so often.

_Jesse always loved me the way I was_, she thought, and a wave of shame hit her for not having returned his last email months before. But her indiscretions at the Cannes Film Festival had left her guilt-ridden and humiliated. A moment of weakness, a couple glasses too many of Champagne in the limo, Jack Harrow - the sexy co-star of her last hit - with his arm around her waist (when it wasn't riding up and touching the underside of her breast), the questions, the cameras, the flashes, glitter, lights, and the overwhelming attention were a sucker-punch she should have anticipated. They were barely inside the hall and she found herself being lead off to a closet where she and Jack locked lips, tongues, and let their hands roam freely. In their intense ten-minute tryst, Leslie helped Jack produce a sticky mess in his tuxedo trousers, not that he seemed to mind, and she had to find a graceful way to spill water on her eight thousand dollar dress to hide her own evidence of uninhibited passion. At the ceremonies following dinner later that evening, Leslie sat mortified as the awards were being presented, eternally grateful she had _not_ won anything so as not to embarrass herself further, and in front of millions on TV.

A few tables behind his second child, Bill Burke seethed, but with a phony smile, and cursed the day he let his daughter audition for films.

That had been seven weeks earlier. Now Leslie Burke sat alone and depressed, nine thousand miles from her temporary home in L.A. and her critically ill brother, and even further away from the boy – the young man – she had thought she would never stop loving. She missed him terribly but was lost as to what to do.

She picked up the revised script, read the first few pages, and cringed. Disregarding her agent's advice, Leslie rewrote the entire first and second scene. When satisfied, she burned the changes on a CD and called for Houston. Her instructions were for him to copy the changes and deliver a set to the director and then, ten minutes later, to Jerry Cline. About _that_ she was specific, and Houston left immediately.

Feeling more in her element, Leslie pushed herself up, locked the suite's door, latched the chain, and walked to the spacious bathroom. She regarded herself in the mirror as she removed her clothes. In years past it was an action that would have evoked nearly instant arousal, usually leading to a lengthy pleasurable sexual interlude – sometimes with Jesse, often by herself. Tonight, however, Leslie simply drew the bath water and let the heat embrace her while she cried and cursed herself. She hadn't felt this lonely since the day she and her parents had moved to Lark Creek.

In the next room over, Jerry Cline was laying in bed reading a contract when he heard a muffled noise that sounded like a woman crying. He dismissed the idea because the next room over was Leslie's, and she was always happy.


	4. Chapter 4: Photographs and Phone Calls

**Bowing Out Gracefully**

Chapter 4  
Photographs and Phone Calls

_Disclaimer: The world of Terabithia belongs to Katherine Paterson and her publishers; I'm just playing around in it for a while. Sadly, no profit can be received from this story._

While Jesse Aarons was finishing his first year in college, and Leslie Burke awaiting the release of _Two Troubled Teens_, Valerie Brant, a twenty-seven year old American who had been living in Cannes for a number of years, was preparing to start a new job. Valerie was what might be unkindly referred to as a _sad sight:_ Short, plump, and long bristly hair were some of her more attractive physical attributes. Her personality, in general, reflected her unkempt appearance. Mr. Brant, her father, ran various security operations for the casinos and hotels and hired her for a menial position at the famous _Palais des Festivals et des Congrès_ in April in preparation for the Film Festival the following month.

The job paid well, too, thanks to her father; that didn't bother Valerie at all since the hotel was disgustingly prosperous. The work, however, was not much to write home about and the American spent as much of her time playing with the camera controllers as monitoring them. By the start of the festival, Valerie had mastered everything there was to master, and more. On opening night, she came to the control center and with a few discreet adjustments began recording onto a forty-terabyte memory stick any camera inputs that appeared even remotely interesting. She didn't think of herself as a high-tech Paparazzi, but this is exactly what she was.

On the red carpet, there were the obligatory half-dressed beauties, false smiles, and flaunted bulbous bodily appendages for the official photographers. Valerie got her fill of those quickly. Looking next at the main hall's security cameras was not very interesting so she began to flip randomly through the eighty or so others scattered about the property. When she caught the view from the backup coat closet, she nearly choked on the candies in her mouth.

_Are they doing what I think they're doing? Yep!_

Seconds later the camera aspect had been adjusted and the recording resumed. There were only about five minutes of action to record before the couple departed, but their identity and activity was unmistakable.

_So, you're not quite the sweet little girl everyone thinks you are. This __might fetch a fine price._

Valerie went home early the next morning very pleased with her day in the _Palais_.

* * *

On his way home from escorting Al and Grace Jacobs to the airport, Jesse stopped at a hardware store and purchased a good pair of leather work gloves. They cost forty dollars, but he knew they would be worth the price. Over the summer he had experienced a noticeable drop in sensitivity in both hands, and it made drawing details difficult at times. Grace had been correct.

Later that evening, before he went to bed, Grace sent Jesse a brief email saying she and her father had returned home safely and thanked him for showing them around Boston. There was no mention of her desire to move in with him. For this, he was grateful.

A week went by – Jesse's typical summer week: hard work and sore body – before he was to enjoy another healthy meal. This time it was courtesy of the MassArt new student orientation program. Still retaining some of his pre and early teen notoriety, Jesse was occasionally called upon to "show himself" at school events. He didn't mind the exposure, it was far less than he received from being around Leslie where he was the boyfriend of the famous author's daughter (and now rising movie star). His usual response to awed expressions or fawning comments was that he was _a different_ Jesse Aarons. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn't.

For this particular weekend, Jesse was asked to hang around the school's video production department and point out various state-of-the-art pieces of equipment. VP was his favorite area, aside from drawing, and his familiarity with the complicated apparatuses made the day go by easily. When the six groups of new students had all filtered through the assorted departments, everyone met for dinner in the student center. Among the frightened future freshmen, apprehensive parents, dour faculty, apathetic dining room staff, and amused students, the most comforting pastime was eating. Jesse was more than delighted to trade conversing with pimply-faced new-bees for a pretty respectable roast beef on rye. He had also brought along a large opaque doggy bag to take home any leftovers.

Returning to his flat an hour later, with a stomach full and the smelly refrigerator restocked, Jesse lounged on the couch and turned on the TV. The weekly entertainment news was just starting and he made a motion to change the channel to avoid seeing anything about Leslie, but he was too late. As soon as her photo flashed on the screen, Jesse couldn't look away.

The just-breaking story, from one of the top Entertainment TV reporters in Europe, featured stills from a security camera generated by the usual _unknown source_. But Jesse wasn't listening to the narrator, his attention was focused on the surveillance camera's images of Leslie and a young man engaged in touching each other intimately. The success of each other's attention was not in doubt, though some of the visual proof was neatly covered by a blackened electronic square. Judging by the way the square moved from photo to photo, and the participant's unconcealed faces, both had been _relieved_ of any pent-up desires.

Slightly sick to his stomach, Jesse turned off the TV, without regard to the reporter's comments, and returned to the couch where he sat pensively for an hour.

_This has to be a mistake…_ he told himself; but in his heart, Jesse believed it was not.

More angry than sad, Jesse eventually got up and fetched a beer from the fridge. There were only a few remaining from the original thirty-six pack; he would soon need to have someone buy another since he was underage. Standing at the front window, Jesse downed most of the drink in one long gulp and then leaned forward to rest his forehead on the glass. In the distance, flashes of an isolated thunderstorm were visible far to the north.

He finished the beer, and then another, hoping they would provide a distraction from the less-than-holy thoughts scurrying about in his mind. Taking out his cell phone, he dialed Karin Bennett, the only other remotely close female friend he had at MassArt, but then hung up before the first ring recalling she would not be back in Boston for another week.

The laptop he used for school, one of the few luxuries he had purchased before leaving for Boston the previous summer, beckoned him. Sitting, Jesse opened his email program and saw there was nothing new since earlier in the day. He clicked on the Send/Receive button and one letter arrived with a timestamp only seconds old. It was from Tom Jacobs.

_Hi__ Rembrandt, thought I'd let you know Grace came in second in States this weekend. She was pretty pumped up about it, as you can imagine. The only hitch was when her old BF showed up. I wanted to kill him. Grace got so distracted she was puking all morning, but she did great. I doubt she could have beaten the first place girl anyway, she's heading to an Olympic development program._

_Thanks again for showing her around Boston, she said you three had a good time. She also told _me_ to tell _you_ to get some good work gloves and eat better. Nag, nag, nag…ha!_

_TJ_

The note provided a welcome distraction from the tumult of the evening and Jesse read it a couple more times. He also found himself wishing Grace had written to tell him the good news. Jotting out a brief reply to Tom, Jesse next started composing a heftier note of congratulations to his friend's sister, but after finishing only two lines in ten minutes, he gave up.

Perusing the internet for a while, he saw on the CNN news front page a glimpse of the entertainment headlines. _Leslie Burke: Another Star Following in Lindsey's Footsteps?_ In a renewed fit of anger, Jesse slapped the laptop closed; an equally angry mechanical beep warned him of possible damage to the unit…but he didn't care. He didn't care, at that moment, about school, the laptop, money, and he most especially didn't care about Leslie Burke.

Jesse made a snap decision. First he went downstairs to speak with Mrs. Hill, then he placed a phone call.

* * *

"Hello."

"Hi Mr. Ja… um, Al, it's Jesse Aarons."

"Hi Jess, how are you doing?" Once again there was a nearly indiscernible pause before the answer. Al Jacobs noted it, though it would have been transparent to most.

"I'm okay."

"Let me see if Tom's left yet, he wanted to get back to Charlottesville before it got too late."

"No, Al, I wasn't calling for Tom…"

"Oh, sorry. You want to talk to Grace? Tom said he emailed you about States."

In the background, Jesse heard Grace asking to whom her brother had mailed what.

"No, I, um, wanted to talk to you…Al."

"Sure, Jess. Just a second." Al Jacobs went to his office, closed the door and sat on the love seat, hanging one leg over the arm. "Okay, Jess, what's on your mind?" Another nearly imperceptible pause spoke volumes about the young man's apprehension.

"Al, I've been thinking. Gracie can come up and live with me…If she still wants. I mean, if it's okay with you. It might be good for her." He wasn't sure why he had added that last statement, and he certainly didn't know what he would say if her father asked _why_ it would be good for her.

Al Jacobs' pause was far longer than Jesse's had been a moment earlier. "I see. Thank you for the offer, Jess. Why the change of heart?"

Jesse began to list out all the positive reasons for the arrangement, much as Grace had done when first offered the job at Cambridge. Al listened patiently and noticed that Jesse said nothing about his personal feelings, and why _he_ had changed his mind.

"I guess that's it, Al, and she can make a lot more money up here than at Saffron."

"Yes, she told me that. I don't believe she considered the added cost of room and board, however, when she made those calculations. Taking that into account she would not make much more in Boston." Neither spoke for a few seconds. "Jess, why don't you tell me the real reason you're suddenly interested in having Grace move in?"

"Um, to be honest, Mr. Jacobs," Jesse unconsciously reverted back to his previous role as the friend of Al Jacobs' children, "I'm lonely…I guess. It was great having someone up here I knew, and who knew me."

Al paused again, briefly. "Jess, I'm not saying I will agree to this arrangement, but if I do, what are you planning to do about your relationship with Grace and Ms. Burke?"

Jesse lied: "Leslie doesn't have anything to do with this, Mr. Jacobs; I'm doing it for Grace and myself."

Surprised at the seeming honesty of the answer, Al pressed on. "Jess, have you thought about the…eh, problems of living with, well, not just Grace, but an attractive young female?"

"I'm not planning on using her, Mr. Jacobs. If Gracie isn't comfortable with the arrangement she doesn't have to accept my offer. And she can leave at any time." This was not technically true since she would have to sign a nine to twelve month lease. "I already spoke with Mrs. Hill, the landlady, and she said it would be okay." Jesse failed to mention that the Puritanical Mrs. Hill had warned him sternly about not tolerating "Orgies and the other gross things you kids get into."

"Jess, I'll have to think about this, and talk to Gracie. You a fine young man, and I want to believe this would be a good move for my daughter…I just need to think about it. Let me give Grace the phone and you can chat with her a while."

Jesse heard Al call for his daughter and hand her the cordless phone. Grace ask who it was a second later. "Jess, is everything okay?"

"Yeah, fine. I wanted to congratulate you and…um, talk to your father about something."

"Yeah, I was wondering who he was locked up in his office with." Grace waited a few seconds for Jesse to volunteer information. "So…what's the big secret?" When he told about the offer, she whooped so loudly he had to move the phone a foot away from his ear.

"I guess that means you're still interested?" he laughed, feeling better himself than he had in a while.

"_YES!_ Thank you, Jesse. Thank you so much. Did my father say it was okay?"

"No…" He heard Grace sigh. "He said he had to think about it. He's worried about us, Gracie. The boy-and-girl-living-close-together stuff."

"Yeah, figures. Are you worried?"

Jesse laughed. "Should I be?"

"I'll behave myself, I promise. Besides, I'd do anything to get away from here, even move in with you."

"_Oh, thanks!_" Again Jesse laughed. It felt good – it felt _GREAT_ – to think about having someone he knew close by.

"Actually, Jess, I'm very serious. Ish is _really_ getting on my nerves. I thought Tommy would kill him when he showed up at States. It took me way too long to realize how possessive he was of me."

"Is he going off to college?"

"Yeah, but just to UMW, that's the University of Mary Washington, in Fredericksburg."

"Mary Washington? Sounds like a girls' school."

"Don't be chauvinistic, Aarons." Grace blew a raspberry at him over the phone. "But it used to be. I think it started letting guys in back in the seventies."

The friends chatted on for another hour, both excited and hopeful about the arrangements, assuming Al Jacobs relented. What neither knew was that Grace's father had heard his daughter's comment about the former boyfriend and made up his mind to let her go. It was a snap decision, and he had serious doubts, particularly about the male/female proximity issue, but he knew Grace was mature enough to move out. And she did need the money.

The next morning at breakfast, before they both left for work, Al Jacobs told his daughter of his decision.


	5. Chapter 5: Moving In

**Bowing Out Gracefully  
**  
Chapter 5  
Moving In

_Disclaimer: The world of Terabithia belongs to Katherine Paterson and her publishers; I'm just playing around in it for a while. Sadly, no profit can be received from this story._

A week later, Al and Grace arrived back in Boston at Mrs. Hill's house in a bright orange U-Haul van. Throughout the week Jesse had spoken with his new flat mate innumerable times telling her what to bring and what not to bring. By Friday, Jesse was certain the list of _not to bring_ was ten times longer than its counterpart was. It remained to be seen whether his advice had been heeded, but the fact that the rental was a _van_ and not a _truck_ was promising.

Jesse met the two and was immediately knocked into the old oak siding by his friend's embrace, which he returned with his own genuine enthusiasm. Then, with the greetings complete, and while the two teens started carrying Grace's belongings up to her room, Al visited with Mrs. Hill and signed the lease since he would be paying it for the first three months. The van was mostly empty by the time he rejoined the movers. Jesse, sweating profusely in the hot August afternoon sun, and smelling a bit ripe, made a couple reproachful comments about Al's work ethics while handing him a box of what felt to be books. An equally snide reply was grunted out while it was carried up the stairs.

While Grace started to unpack and Jesse showered, Al relaxed in the living-dining room. He noticed, upon first entering the flat that its occupant had done some serious cleaning in the preceding two weeks. Now the place was merely a mess rather than a health hazard. The fridge still smelled sour, however. Smiling to himself, he thought back to his first apartment and realized Jesse might actually be a little cleaner than he had been.

Al took the kids out dinner that evening and noticed the mixed looks of excitement and apprehension in his daughter. Before he left for the hotel later he spent a while giving her comforting words and encouraging forecasts.

Eager to leave early the next morning and avoid traffic, Al came by around six to say goodbye. Jesse poked his head from his room and gave Grace's father a sleepy wave before returning to bed. Father and daughter talked for an hour and then walked to the street, arms around each other. A few more words of praise, then Al got in the van. As he drove off, Al thought Grace looked a bit forlorn until Jesse stumbled into view next to her and led her away, following one final wave.

Grace spent the day cleaning her room before unpacking, happy she anticipated a lack of cleaning supplies at the flat and brought her own. Jesse, for the most part, stayed out of her way – for two reasons: One, he didn't feel like cleaning. And two, since her arrival the day before, he was having second thoughts about having offered the second room to a female. Not Grace in particular, almost any female. Except Leslie. But each time this thought went through his head, Jesse recalled the images from the entertainment news and any associated guilt vanished.

The simple fact was, Jesse Aarons was angry. Unfortunately, he did not understand this.

Mid-morning, Grace asked Jesse for help moving her bed and dresser. Upon entering the room he immediately noticed a significant difference in his and his friend's idea of cleanliness. A bucket of brown water attested to the filth removed from the walls.

"I was wondering what this paint color really was," he said jokingly. When he saw Grace's look of disgust he pointed out his first flat mate was a messy guy. He received no response and started moving the bed.

By noon, the cleaning in Grace's room was largely complete. It had been picked-up, swept, dusted, washed, scrubbed, shaken out and had its windows washed – revealing genuine sun light for the first time in months, possibly years.

As the day progressed, the August heat and humidity turned the flat into a sauna. Jesse had warned Grace about this: Mrs. Hill would not allow the air conditioning to be set cooler than eighty. And that was downstairs. On the upper level, it was better to be quiet and sit under a fan. But Grace did not have that luxury. When Jesse came into her room to see if she wanted to have lunch, she snapped at him for not knocking, pointing out the door did not have a lock and she might have been changing. It was another lesson in sharing he had to quickly adjust to. When he grew up in Lark Creek, Jesse's sisters regularly came in and out of the single bathroom they shared - unannounced. Of course, they were all much younger back then, and with the addition of a second bathroom this situation was resolved.

He quickly apologized and retreated out, but Grace called him back and they talked about privacy and personal space. Grace insisted that her room was sacrosanct and accessible via invitation only. Jesse thought she sounded a little like her father giving an order, but he agreed nonetheless. He did point out that at night, in hot weather, closing the bedroom door and cutting off what little cross-ventilation there was might be unpleasant. Grace said she would take her chances and deal with that when the time came.

_Most likely tonight,_ Jesse thought.

Other areas in the flat – living/dining room and kitchen – both easily agreed were common areas. That left the bathroom. This was the discussion Jesse was dreading.

"Jess, it's filthy and unhealthy. I'll clean it this afternoon, but can were rotate weeks to clean it, please?" The half-pleading, half-insisting expression she wore reminded him of when her family lived in Lark Creek and she would beg him to do something he should be doing anyway.

"Okay, Gracie, I'll…" He stopped, she was scowling again.

"And Jess, please don't call me Gracie; I'm not thirteen any more…and I never really liked anyone calling me that except my mother."

"Yeah, sure. Sorry." She smiled. "And cleaning the bathroom is fine."

"Thanks…"

Over lunch – leftovers from dinner the previous night - the two friends chatted and worked out other personal vs. common concerns: food, shared duties, et cetera. Grace kept notes and said she would put up a "duty roster" in the kitchen. The fact that she was from a military family continued to be self-evident, but Jesse didn't mind, too much. He discovered he enjoyed the inclusion of some order into his otherwise slovenly life style.

Later, while his friend chiseled away at a year of scum in the bathroom, Jesse set up the router Al had brought so they would not need two cable accounts. When finished, he found himself automatically cleaning and dusting the living room. Then he brought out an ancient vacuum Mrs. Hill had left for him when he had first arrived and cleaned the couch and a few score dust bunnies roaming the floor. When he switched the machine off, Jesse saw Grace watching him from the bathroom door.

"Don't stop for me," she laughed.

Jesse smiled and continued to wind up the power cord. "How's the disaster zone coming along?"

"I just hope that _other_ guy who lived here didn't have any communicable diseased;" She held up her water-withered hands. "I left my rubber gloves at home."

"That bad?"

Grace gave him a saccharine smiled. "I'm being _very_ kind." Then she went back to work.

Two hours later, still scrubbing away, Grace was finally nearing the end. Jesse had been diligently cleaning the kitchen and just started on the fridge when he went to check on Grace. At some point since his last look she had changed into some ratty, faded gym shorts and a tank top. Obviously, the heat was getting to her: The back of her shirt and under the arms were stained with perspiration. Her hair was a frizzled mess, too. But the tub and walls were spotless.

"Wow, looks _great_."

She started to get up but stopped, her back knotted up from the awkward position she had been in over the past hour. Cursing, Grace flexed her muscles and stood.

In the three years since Jesse had seen Grace on a more regular basis, she had grown into a beautiful young woman – not that she hadn't been one in her early and mid-teens. Often Jesse had mistaken her for Leslie when he saw her from behind. They had even been built the same. But as she turned to acknowledge the remark, Jesse noticed for the first time how much the two young women had diverged, physically. Grace was now taller by a couple inches, more muscular – particularly in her shoulders, lighter haired, had bigger breasts and her freckles were more pronounced.

_Probably from being in the pool and sun so much._

She also carried a complimentary suntan that sparked Jesse's curiosity about where the tan lines ended.

Grace cleared her throat. "_Ahem_, Jess?"

Startled, he suddenly realized he had been staring at a spot a few inched below her shoulders.

"What looks great?" Grace asked somewhat testily, completely aware that she had been stared at in a less-than-innocent fashion. And she was blushing a little, too. When she saw Jesse wasn't able to answer, she went to the sink and washed her hands, then pointed to the living room couch.

They sat.

"Jess, are we going to have a problem?"

Rattled by her recognition of the transparent appraisal of her body, Jesse honestly didn't know what to say.

"Jess?" she repeated.

With a dry mouth, he replied, "N-No, Grace. I'm sorry, I wasn't trying to be rude. I just haven't seen you…like that. You've changed a lot."

Grace folded her arms over her chest and said dryly, "Yes, that does happen to females. I repeat my question: Are we going to have a problem?"

Finally recovered enough to think, Jesse answered. "I'm not going to attack you, if that's what you mean."

"No, I trust you like that. I mean, will you feel it necessary to jump in the shower and _ahem_... _relieve yourself_ whenever you see me not wearing a bra?" Jesse was taken aback by the frankness of the remark. He was also stunned that it was so accurate. Then he recalled something…something he'd left in the shower. A bottle of hand lotion. Guilt showed brightly on his face. "It's under the sink, Jess, next time you, uh, need it."

"Sorry," he croaked miserably.

"It's _okay_, Jess," Grace said, and far more gently than he had expected she would. "Tom Jacobs _is_ my brother, remember?" Then, with a teasing grin, she told him to be sure to clean the shower _afterwards_, so she wouldn't step in anything sticky. Jesse nearly died of embarrassment, but Grace left him alone and returned to finish the bathroom.

_Oh, God_, Jesse reflected, _why did I do this to myself?_

For the balance of the afternoon, Jesse avoided Grace and kept his mind on scrubbing the refrigerator. It took an hour to remove a congealed puddle of old milk-turned-yogurt pooled under the veggie drawer. He gagged a few times at the smell but felt proud of himself when finished.

Around six, Jesse washed-up quickly in the kitchen, and after calling out that he would be right back, ran down the street to a Thai carry-out (he recalled that Grace like Thai food), and purchased dinner. He did not care much for the cuisine, but that thought didn't register at the time.

Back at the flat, Grace had just finished showering and was in her room getting dressed. Jesse set some plates and silverware out, along with the food, and waited. Five minutes later Grace appeared, sniffing the air conspicuously.

"Is that Thai, Jess? I swear I smell green curry and pineapple rice."

"Yep. Dinner is served," he announced with a flourish of his hand and a poor British accent.

But his gesture was greeted with a look of slight disappointment from his friend; they sat and he began to serve himself when Grace spoke.

"This is wonderful, Jess. Thank you. You remembered my two favorite dishes."

"Yeah, well, I have a good memory," he kidded, with a crooked smile. But Grace did not look pleased. "What's wrong?"

"Jesse, I don't want you spending your money on expensive food. We both need to save a bundle for school and I bet this cost twenty dollars.

_Thirty, actually…_

"Please talk with me next time, okay?"

"Yes, ma'am," he said, trying to sound both admonished and indifferent.

After a couple minutes of uneasy silence, Grace asked, "Do you buy your meals every day?"

"Um, mostly. I mean, I don't each much for breakfast. At lunch I hit the cafeteria deli," he thumbed to a nebulous _somewhere_ in the general direction of MassArt, "and usually grab something on the way home from that Italian place you saw around the corner. Why?"

Slightly incredulous, Grace took a couple more bites of her food, scowled mildly and eyed her friend, before she spoke again. "Jess, I bet you can save at least a thousand dollars a year by cooking dinners here and taking leftovers for your lunch."

"I don't eat that much," he protested.

"I know, it's obvious." Sitting back and abandoning her dinner, Grace was coming to realize just how run-down her friend had become. But she did not want to mother him, either. "I'll tell you what. After my first week at work I'll cook dinner for a few days and you can decide if you want to share the cost and take leftovers for lunch the next day or go on the way you are."

"Maybe…"

"But you'll have to help with cleaning and paying for the food," she added, and then went back to her meal.

Now it was Jesse's turn to stare. "You've changed, Grace. You were never this assertive before. You sound like your father giving an order."

"I suppose…if you'd bothered…to keep in touch…over the years," she responded between bites of food, "you would have…noticed it sooner."

"Yeah, okay."

The rest of the meal passed in silence.

Tired from the chores of the day, the two lounged in the living room together while an evening thunderstorm brought some welcome relief to the heat of the day. When the rain let up, Jesse opened the windows wide to let the cool damp breeze refresh the entire floor. Grace, who had been trying to figure out her W-4 tax form, saw Jesse return to the couch and pick up his book. She continued to watch him until he glanced her way over the top of the paperback. Their eyes met. His were faintly sad, hers were lively. They held the gaze for a long time, though not as a contest, more as if each was measuring up the other. Grace spoke first.

"Not the best start to a year of living together, was this?" But she didn't wait for an answer. "I'm sorry, Jess, I did come on a little strong. PMS and all that, I suppose." Then she stood and moved to sit next to her friend. Jesse watched her silently flop down right next to him, their legs touching. Grace observed him watching her. The complex relationship they shared seemed to overwhelm Jesse and after a few seconds Grace was certain his mind had drifted to Leslie; the effect of her absence from his life was obvious. She reached around his shoulder and gave him a one-armed hug.

"Good night, Jess. And thanks for letting me stay with you."

Jesse nodded, but just as Grace had suspected, his mind was elsewhere.


	6. Chapter 6: Karin Bennett

**Bowing Out Gracefully**

Chapter 6  
Karin Bennett

_Disclaimer: The world of Terabithia belongs to Katherine Paterson and her publishers. I'm just playing around in it for a while. Sadly, no profit can be received from this story._

Jesse escorted Grace to the Cambridge University campus early the following morning for her first day of work. The entire time she took notes about which subway stations to use, the best route to follow when it rained, historic or interesting buildings, restaurants, and anything that came up in conversation. It was a glimpse into her personality he had never experienced before, Grace being a year behind he and Leslie in school. The organization intimidated him at times. When he mentioned stopping at the grocery store on the way home, Grace took out a prepared list of things she needed, and cash she assured him would be sufficient. Looking at the twenties and ones, he doubted there would be much change at all.

At six-thirty, the new Bostonian returned home looking both tired and exhilarated. For the next half hour, Jesse heard all about the job, the school, co-workers, and anything and everything that came to Grace's mind. He smiled recalling a comment Tom Jacobs had made to him years before about how this was his sister's style: _She might not say anything to you all day, but at the dinner table you can't shut her up. I don't know how she can eat and talk at the same time…_

Then, just as abruptly as she had started chatting, she stopped. Disappearing into the kitchen she looked through the things Jesse had bought for her, put them away, and looked at the receipt: a dollar twenty-seven in change lay beneath it. She smiled smugly.

"Have dinner yet?" she heard Jesse call from the dining room table where he was on his laptop.

"Not yet. Got something in mind?"

There was a brief pause. "Filet mignon, jacket potatoes with sour cream and chives, green beans and almonds…. Or an omelet."

Graces amused face appeared from the other room. "I _so_ feel like filet…but an omelet would be great. You cooking?"

"Yep. Ham and Swiss okay?"

Jesse got up and started preparing the meal while Grace changed and checked her email, jotting off a quick note to her father. She then set the table, finishing just as Jesse brought out two plates. Each held a small pile of hash browns and the golden-yellow omelets with melting white Swiss cheese and pink chunks of ham spilling out. Setting these down, he went back to the kitchen and returned with one bowl of pineapple and another of spinach.

"Wow, Jess, maybe you should cook for us. This looks great."

"When I have the time I'm a fair cook. But once school starts next week I don't get home until about seven. Kinda late for cooking."

Both dug into the meal, Jesse glad to see his new flat mate eating heartily. They chatted some between bites, but were mostly quiet. It was a kind of silence, however, that Jesse wasn't accustomed to. With Leslie, there had always been conversation or silly banter about one thing or another. His flat mate the previous year was even more talkative, but attempts at starting similar conversations with Grace proved futile. While cleaning the dishes later, he reflected on the vastly different personality he was trying to accept. It was something he hadn't noticed the summer he spent with Grace five years earlier.

The next morning, Grace found a brown paper lunch bag in the refrigerator with her name on it. Inside was a ham and cheese sandwich. Though she knew it wouldn't last, Jesse's gesture was appreciated and she began her first solo trip through Boston on a positive note.

* * *

Jesse spent the balance of the week hanging around the MassArt campus and trading stories with his returning friends. By Friday, almost all returning students had arrived to set up their dorm room, apartment, flat, or house (or in the case of the male population, dump their belongings off and go to the nearest party). Since he was already situated, Jesse expected to spend most of Friday and the weekend helping people move in – not a hard task compared to the work he'd done over the summer.

The first person he ran into Friday afternoon was his friend Karin Bennett. She and Jesse had spent much of their first year sharing classes, and her quick wit and perpetual cheerfulness helped him deal with the degenerating relationship with Leslie. Although she knew Jesse's depression was due to a girl, it had taken most of the year for Karin to find out exactly who it was. (She discovered that vital piece of data by overhearing a telephone conversation between Jesse and one of his sisters the previous April.) She arrived at Jesse's place asking for his assistance with a few heavy boxes. He knew she traveled light and lived frugally so he immediately hopped into her car and spent the afternoon helping out, though sometimes talking more than working.

During the summer, as with many students, Karin had to work to pay her way through school, and she spent most of the ten weeks doing double-shifts for the overtime pay. She and Jesse had spoken a couple times, but neither cared for chatty phone conversation so they were brief and superficial. When reunited that Friday, many hours of stories were waiting to be shared.

The topic Karin was most curious about was the status of Jesse's relationship with his (ex)girlfriend and she questioned him about this first. The response was disappointingly non-informative - not much more than a grunt and a shrug of his shoulders. Over the next couple hours, between unpacking and cracking stupid jokes to loosen up her guest, Karin was able to coax more from Jesse about Leslie than he had ever told her. Her heart went out to the young man, and she wanted to comfort him with a hug, but she knew he was a private person with a large personal space that he did not like violated. Instead, she sat as close to him as she believed wise and offered her full attention.

Then Jesse told her about his new flat mate.

Karin's initial reaction was one of utter astonishment. Jesse had mentioned Grace as a casual acquaintance, but never as someone he might board with. Obviously, this association was something more than casual and lead to her second reaction: jealousy, particularly when Jesse mentioned that Grace was _almost as pretty as Leslie_. He did not notice his friend's loss of concentration when old insecurities distracted her attention and turned her thoughts inward.

Karin Bennett was, in the opinion of most males she associated with, _a nice girl_ - that somewhat less-than-flattering tag people often receive but seldom deserve. It's not that they _aren't_ nice, but that their physical beauty does not carry as much weight as their personality, in the opinion of others. In fact, Karin _was_ pretty. She was a little taller than average, just under five foot ten, thin, with light brown hair and nice facial features, but without the body shape and breast size most shallow males desire in a prospective mate. And throughout high school, her lack of overt beauty and slightly timid nature kept her from the more "_in_" crowds.

Friends – real friends - were never a problem for Karin, fortunately, but they were all female. She had dated a couple guys, but mostly ones who were interested in seeing if she would put out, which resulted in some minor sexual encounters and a low self-esteem. When she started at MassArt, Jesse Aarons became her first real male friend, and although they were not romantically involved, Karin would not have objected should that change. With her first day back in Boston coming to a close, and her cautious aspiration that Jesse might be available looking doubtful in light of his new flat mate, Karin decided on another tactic. This was not necessarily a wise decision, especially when that new tactic was unpracticed and unfamiliar.

She moved closer to Jesse and put her hand on his back, just below his neck. Seeing he did not flinch or pull away, Karin moved on to lightly rubbing his back. _No negative reaction! _No reaction at all.

"Jess, it there anything I can do?" _God that sounded SO stupid._ "I mean, let's take your mind off Leslie, okay?" _Ugh, I'm going downhill fast…_

"Huh? No, it's not really on her. Sorry. I didn't mean to dump that on you, Kari."

_Kari?_ She was sure he didn't know that was her favorite pet name.

* * *

Jesse felt the hand of his friend on his back and was surprised to find that it did not bother him as much as he thought another female's touch might. The hand then moved up and down a bit before Karin spoke. Jesse laughed to himself that he was not the only person who put a foot in their mouth. A sudden surge of affection for Karin filled him.

"Huh? No, it's not really on her. Sorry. I didn't mean to dump that on you, Kari."

She said nothing.

Inside Jesse's head, however, there stirred a notion, a wild, reckless, selfish and exciting notion. For the first time in a week he had let down his guard. Grace was not around and he felt…uninhibited, unrestrained. He looked at Karin and saw her looking at him intensely. He reached over to take her hand.

Whatever chaos was awakened between them by the gesture, Jesse immediately saw that Karin had misinterpreted it. However, he didn't care. She leaned in, he leaned in, and they kissed. It lasted only a second before they pulled back: she placed a hand on his cheek. The slightly surprised look on Karin's face spoke nothing about what was happening inside Jesse's body – a physiological response he had not felt in a year. He leaned in and they kissed again. Both kisses were gentle and about as chaste as a kiss on the lips could be.

* * *

"Was that okay, Jess?" Karin asked hesitantly after the second kiss.

"Yeah. I just…I don't know. You're the first girl I've kissed in years, except for Leslie."

Karin said nothing, but looked down, not trusting her emotions, and not really understanding them, either. Then she felt Jesse lift up her chin and their lips met again. This time it lasted longer, as though both were seeing if they liked it.

_I like__ it!_

Feeling Jesse scoot closer to her on the sofa, Karin turned her body into a more comfortable position and they renewed the activity, but this time she felt Jesse put more enthusiasm into it. Their lips pressed together harder and when they started to break apart she felt Jesse pull her back and place a more gentle buss on the corner of her mouth. It was this one simple gesture more than anything that set Karin Bennett afire - and she nearly screamed in frustration. She knew they had to retain some control of their actions.

Next, she initiated the kiss and was not at all hesitant to open her mouth, slightly pulling in Jesse's lips and brushing them with the tip of her tongue. He responded immediately and as their tongues met. Karin felt faint. She knew it had to do with arousal and could not suppress a moan into Jesse's mouth.

* * *

When he heard Karin's moan, a long dormant area of Jesse's brain came fully back to life. As the kissing continued and deepened, his body's usual reaction kicked in and for the first time in his life Jesse didn't really care if he was with Leslie or not.

He felt Karin take his hand and place it on her right breast. Through the t-shirt, he could tell she would be easily accessible. With little hesitation, Jesse slipped his hand underneath and easily covered the breast. It was hardly more than a mound the thickness of his own hand.

Karin gasped at the touch and Jesse continued to explore, one side then the other, marveling at the escalating response he was receiving each time his fingers ran across one nipple or another. His own reaction was becoming painful, too. No one but Leslie had ever touched him intimately, but the immediate situation seemed to beg for a change in that regard.

* * *

Karin blissfully waved at her conscience and self-control as they departed the arena. She had a day to herself before her roommate arrived, an attractive and obviously interested young man playing tidily-winks with her chest, and the first real prospect of a decent boyfriend within reach. (A far cry from the two adolescents she had dated in high school whose idea of mutual affection was fingering her briefly after she had given them a hand-job.) Jesse Aarons was gentle and seemed more than willing to give as well as receive.

As the touching continued, however, Karin wondered why Jesse hadn't initiated anything deeper: _She_ was nearly dizzy with passion and fighting an urge to touch herself for relief.

_Is Jesse one of those guy__s who liked to watch?_ Karin wondered. The idea of doing herself for him was stimulating in itself, and she sank still deeper into sexual arousal.

_Maybe he didn't know what to do next__?_ But no, the idea that he had dated Leslie for six or seven years and not _gone all the way_ was nonsense. Jesse had even hinted that his experiences with physical intimacy were practical, not academic.

Trying to move things along, Karin sent her hand down to the bulge in Jesse's shorts - but he jumped and groaned loudly.

"Sorry…too much?" she asked, thinking she might have triggered an orgasm, but she'd felt nothing wet. Jesse shook his head no and returned to kissing and touching. Karin returned to gently rubbing Jesse's erection and enjoying his reactions.

* * *

While Jesse fought to not embarrass himself by ejaculating too soon – a Herculean effort – something caught his attention. It wasn't that he cared about making a mess. He had figured they would be naked soon anyway. What Jesse _did_ care about was that he stank. Literally. For much of the afternoon he had been moving Karin's things from the hot and humid outdoors, up two flights of stairs, and around the apartment. Despite the refreshing air conditioning inside, Jesse could smell the effects of his actions outside. Always fastidious about his cleanliness, he had to stop things – as much as he did not want to. The expanded part of his lower torso also protested this notion.

"Kari...we have to...stop," he stated, between kisses. "I don't want to..."

"Me either..."

"I need...a shower..."

Stopping, Karin leaned back. "Me too. Wanna, uh..." She thumbed towards the bathroom, more than a little amazed at her own boldness. Then again, she had never felt quite so stimulated.

Jesse kissed her again, but it was brief. "No, all my clothes are at my place..."

"We can go there," Karin suggested hopefully.

For a moment, Jesse almost gave in. Then he remembered his flat mate and the mood was broken. He stood and stammered, "I can't, Kari. It's too soon, too fast. I like you and all, but.... Let's...I don't know...take it slow, okay?"

Seeing this was the best she could hope for, Karin nodded and joined Jesse, standing. She flung her arms around his neck casually and pulled them both together. Against her navel she felt his erection again, but he broke the hold after a few seconds to allow his body to relax and deflate.

A half hour later, after moving a few other items around, Jesse left with an awkward wave to go home. Karin had offered a ride but he felt a need to get away from her to think. Walking the thirteen blocks to his building, Jesse wondered if he and Karin could be more than friends. He had thoroughly enjoyed their actions earlier – probably too much!

_What's holding me back?_

* * *

Back at the flat, Jesse showered and reflected of the brief but heated make-out session with Karin. It had been a year since he'd last kissed Leslie, but the thought of the two girls and the way they affected him only compounded his confusion. Hanging by a thin, frayed thread was his attachment to Leslie Burke; but he liked Karin, too. They were friends, and the openness they shared proved that they could be good friends. The blossoming physical aspect was definitely nice also.

From the other room, Jesse heard Grace call out that she was home. He replied, rinsed the remaining shampoo from his hair, and started drying himself. The idea that Grace might have walked in on him and Karin together in some yet undefined form of intimate – or even sexual - activity gave Jesse a start. With this in mind, he got dressed and went to his room.


	7. Chapter 7: Instigated by Clayton Branch

**Bowing Out Gracefully**

Chapter 7  
Instigated by Clayton Branch

_Disclaimer: The world of Terabithia belongs to Katherine Paterson and her publishers. I'm just playing around in it for a while. Sadly, no profit can be received from this story._

Grace noticed that Jesse was unusually quiet and reserved all weekend, but she did not query him, nor did he volunteer any information about what might point to his more-than-usual introverted behavior. She heard him talking on his cell phone in his bedroom much more, but the one time she tried to hear what was being discussed there was little to indicate anything specific. Sunday evening he practically ignored her until she asked about his classes. The response was less than informative.

"Just the usual crap art students take." That was the extent of the conversation and Grace gave up trying to get him to speak.

The next few weeks were even worse. By the end of September, Grace was convinced something was wrong with her friend. She still had not been introduced to Karin or she might have picked up on some of the nonverbal indicators flying between the two. In addition, she and Jesse's schedules allowed only a couple hours together on weekdays, most of that taken up with his schoolwork, dinner, or brief comments about nothing important.

In fact, there _was_ something very wrong with Jesse, but in his typical reserved fashion, he kept his feeling to himself. Even his affection for and trust of Grace was not enough to push him into seeking her help.

What Jesse was experiencing was the renewed emotional torment from letting go of Leslie caused by the deepening of his relationship with Karin. Even though neither had pushed their blossoming friendship too fast, Jesse found himself constantly guilt-ridden every time they held hands or kissed – which was, after Karin's first day back, as far as they had progressed. Also, Karin's roommate, Alice Wilkins, was a bit prudish, so they both agreed that deeper physical intimacy at Karin's place was out, and at Jesse's place there was Grace. Enough said.

It wasn't until early October that Jesse's blonde friend found out about Karin. Or, more precisely, about _her_ _and_ _Jesse_.

Early one Saturday morning, as Grace was about to start her laundry, there was an unexpected knock on the door. Jesse was still asleep so she answered, expecting to find Mrs. Hill complaining about one thing or another. Instead, she opened the door to see a tall, thin, brown-haired female about her own age carrying what she recognized as various artists' tools. Before she could even speak, Karin did so.

"Hi, you must be Grace." Then holding out her hand, and with a disturbingly sweet smile, said, "I'm Karin Bennett…Karin…_Jesse's girlfriend?_"

Only a fortuitous - and perfectly timed - _BANG_ from a backfiring truck saved Grace from total embarrassment. When Karin turned towards the sound, Grace made a quick exit saying she would get Jesse. Two seconds later, when Karin turned back, Grace had disappeared. She shrugged, let herself in, and sat on the couch waiting for her boyfriend to appear.

That would take a bit longer than expected. Instead of going straight to Jesse's room, Grace sealed herself in her own and tried to compose herself. But why? She was not sure. She had suspected for a few weeks that Jesse _might_ be dating a girl from school – and she had convinced herself that that was fine. She had not gone to Boston, after all, to chase Jesse Aarons. Yet the sudden and unexpected introduction by this Karin girl struck her harder than she had expected it would, for here also was the realization of why Jesse had become so quiet and distant, at least in part.

_And another reason he's__ spoken so little about Leslie Burke!_

Leaning back onto her bedroom door, Grace knew she had to let Jesse know Karin was there or she would have a lot of uncomfortable explaining to do. She breathed deeply, like just before a race, walked to Jesse's door, rapped twice and called out his name. When certain he was awake, Grace returned to her room, retrieved the laundry basket, and retreated to the basement to start the wash. On the way out, she said calmly to Karin that Jesse would be there shortly.

* * *

Grace had been told by Jesse, when she first moved in, that the laundry room in the basement was, in hot weather, the most comfortable spot in the house. It _was_ significantly cooler than their flat, and afforded the user a little privacy – a place to get away, whether from the heat or an irritating flatmate. Currently, Jesse fell into that second category.

Grace remained in the laundry room while her first load of clothes washed. She had just moved it to the dryer when the door opened behind her.

"Hey," she said to Jesse, acting as if it was a typical Saturday morning.

"Hi. Um, sorry about that. I forgot I was working with Karin this morning. When I wasn't at the corner she came up to find me." Jesse had told her how he often drew for tourists on Saturday mornings. "She, um, didn't wake you up, did she?"

_Not in the way you mean!_ "No, that's fine, Jess." But Grace hadn't faced her friend, and Jesse, thinking all was well, began to leave. "Jess?" she called after him.

"Yeah?"

"Karin's your girlfriend?"

"Oh….She told you that?"

Grace jumped up and sat on the dryer. "Yes, but I think she felt a little threatened by me sharing the place with you." Not knowing what to say, Jesse simply shrugged. "So…you two are going out to draw, paint, or whatever it is you do?"

"Um, yeah. I came down to tell you we would be out for most of the day."

"Thanks." Then, refusing to let the matter drop, "So, Leslie's out of the picture? It's official?"

Grace could see a hint of pain and discomfort in Jesse's eyes, as well as the obvious non-verbal signs of disappointment in his movements as he spoke the words.

"I guess so, yeah. I guess she wants it that way since she won't contact me." He turned again to leave.

"Jess?"

He stopped but didn't turn around. "Yeah, Grace?"

"Do you want to talk about it?" He shook his head. "You sure? Okay. See you later."

Grace gave a sympathetic, but unseen smile; Jesse nodded, but didn't leave. "We're going to be a couple blocks down, by the clinic. Come by later and hang out with us, if you want."

"Sure. Thanks Jess. See you."

* * *

By eleven, Grace had finished her laundry and made a grocery list. Jesse promised to go shopping Sunday and she impishly made a point of including a couple feminine hygiene products that were certain to cause him consternation in the aisle and at the checkout counter. She also picked up around the apartment, pleased to see that Jesse had willingly kept their common areas fairly orderly and clean (and she no longer felt ill when using the bathroom). After sending a quick email off to her father and brother, Grace made up a small assortment of sandwiches from chicken and other leftovers, grabbed a few bottles of water, and headed out to surprise Jesse and Karin with lunch.

On the way down to see the two, Grace passed mostly residential dwellings until she reached the second block. It contained the local emergency care clinic (she had visited it her second week in Boston when she stepped on a large metal splinter in the back yard), and a small private publishing company with the curious motto: _I am the King of England and above Grammar_.

Jesse and Karin were speaking with a small gaggle of elderly tourists when Grace arrived a moment later. Both looked very pleased and she noticed one of the visitors admiring Jesse's charcoal and pencil sketches. Karin saw Grace approach, gave her a friendly-ish wave, and returned to her easel to work on an unseen piece.

"Hey, you two hungry?" Grace said when the patrons left, surprising Jesse.

"I'm always hungry, Gracie, um…Grace. Sorry."

The slip was ignored. "I know. I made you a ---" she scrunched up her face in mock disgust, "chicken and peanut butter on wheat. Please don't let me see you eating it." Jesse laughed and took the proffered food and water. "Karin, you want something?" Grace could tell she was about to say no, but the tall girl had another idea.

"Sure. I'll have a Reuben on white toast, please."

Grace laughed and threw her a chicken salad and water. "Pretend," she instructed with a barely suppressed grin.

The three sat in the shade of a wall attached to Harvard Medical School and chatted about the agreeable trend of weather, school, work, and anything - except each other. There was some initial tension between the two females, but that eased as the lunch crowds started passing by and the prospect of business cheered the two artists.

Around one, a gaggle of medical students walked by and stopped to look at Karin's and Jesse's work, offering praise and then lamenting the fact that they earned almost nothing and could not afford to purchase anything. But they had hardly walked away when Jesse went to Karin and pointed out another approaching group.

"What?" asked Grace. "Who are they?"

"The guy in the middle is Clayton Branch," Jesse answered quietly, "a second year med student; his father is the President of Harvard Law. He always pays us starving artists well." Grace watched the longhaired man approach, hoping they would stop for a drawing from Jesse. As Branch and his two friends neared, Jesse noticed that Grace had taken his arm, obviously as hopeful as he was for the man's patronage. He finally had to tap her hand with a pencil – she was cutting off his circulation. Apologizing, Grace stepped back and noticed Karin ignoring the three men. She gave her a questioning look.

"I don't bother with _him_," she said, by way of explanation. "He pays well but is a chauvinistic prick." The two girls watched on silently. The students stopped to speak with Jesse and didn't bother to look at Karin or Grace. When they were deep in discussion, Karin turned and mouthed _ass hole_ at Grace, who immediately cracked up. This _did_ get them some attention.

"Do you have something to say to me?" asked Branch. His extreme Boston accent was almost comical.

Karin stepped away from the wall. Grace was afraid she was going to punch him.

"Yeah, I said you're a chauvinistic prick," she spat defiantly. Branch's two friends laughed but he held his ground, staring at Karin. Jesse inched over cautiously.

"And why is that?"

"Because, when was the last time you asked a female to draw or paint for you? When was the last time you bought something from a female? That's why."

To almost everyone's surprise, Branch laughed and then walked over to some of Karin's watercolors, gazing at them with a critical eye. He pointed out three of the eight she had displayed. "How much for those three?"

Karin quickly added up the price, all the while wondering why he had picked the three she thought were of the least quality. She quoted the price. Wordlessly, Branch took out money on a clip from his pocket and counted out a few bills from the large wad, handing them to Karin. She took them with more than a little shock. The purchase, however, was nothing compared to what he did next. Picking up the three watercolors, Branch handed them to his friends, who, Jesse noticed, had a worried look on their face. Then he took out a pocketknife and shredded the canvasses.

"_WHAT ARE YOU DOING?_" Grace shouted angrily.

"They're mine, and they're_ atrocious_. I'm saving the world from rubbish art…whoever _you_ are."

Grace fell back under his authoritative gaze. Jesse and Karin were still stunned by the rich young man's actions.

Branch then turned back to Karin and Jesse, surprising them yet again. "I have a thousand dollars I'll pay to one of you. Whoever does a better portrait of loud-mouth there," he pointed to Grace, "even if it's you," he pointed to Karin, "I'll be back about six. Be here."

The three med students walked away leaving the three destroyed paintings and two slack-jawed artists. Grace was quivering a little. A small crowd of tourists and other students had gathered and now looked expectantly at them. Grace started to back away, but Karin grabbed her arm. "No way. Find a comfortable pose; one of us is going to be a thousand bucks richer in a few hours."

"No you're not," Grace declared, coming back to her senses and smirking. "Whoever wins owns me a hundred dollars for wasting my time posing for you two."

The artists looked at each other and shrugged. In five minutes, Grace was seated on a windowsill of the building behind them hoping she would not get too bored.

At a quarter past six, Branch returned with a different group of friends or classmates. Both Jesse and Karin had finished their portraits and were leaning against the wall while their work was being examined. Branch spent about five minutes with each artist, asking questions and making knowledgeable comments. He obviously had an excellent education in art and spoke as an informed critic. Finally, he backed off and took a check from his pocket, and handed it to Karin.

"You," he pointed to Jesse, "are _outstanding_ in detail and perspective." Then he turned to Karin. "You have talent, not the detail of his, but you can't get that with watercolors. I like yours better because it does more than produce an expert copy of the subject. Your style enhances her natural beauty. You win." And with that, Clayton Branch took his painting and walked off.

Karin walked over to Jesse and took his hand. "Sorry, it's all a matter of taste. Give me pencils and I could never do that." Then she leaned closer and said quietly, "Let's get cleaned up and I'll treat you to dinner. Alice is gone for the weekend...want to come over? We could eat in...Or out."

Jesse smiled at the thought of having some time alone with his friend – his _girlfriend_ – a handle that was still difficult for him to grasp at times. Then he thought of Grace. His face fell and he turned to find her; they had planned to cook dinner together that evening. She was still standing to the back, a knowing smile on her face. She addressed Jesse directly.

"You two have a good time. I'll see you later, Jess." Turning to Karin, she added, "Congratulations, and don't forget you owe me a hundred dollars." Then picking up the remnants of lunch, she made a quick exit.

* * *

When Karin suggested dinner together, Jesse suspected the evening would be different from their usual dates. When she mentioned Alice being gone, he was certain of it. Packing up their things, Karin couldn't stop talking about the money, but her looks towards him spoke of a far more intimate interest. This excited Jesse, and worried him, too. He knew there was coming a time in their relationship when temptations of the flesh would win. Not that he objected to that sort of activity any more, Leslie had broken him of that annoying habit years ago. But this was Karin, not Leslie.

An hour later, cleaned and clothes changed, Jesse was at Karin's apartment trying to decide with her what to have for dinner. Neither ate out much due to the expense, but Karin insisted she treat that evening so they selected carryout from a nearby Indian restaurant rumored to be good. With the order placed, the couple walked the four blocks, hand-in-hand, to pick it up.

On the small balcony at Karin place, she and Jesse enjoyed the dinner together and talked about the people walking by below, the city in the distance, and upcoming schoolwork. Over the past month, they had paired-up often and found working with each other mutually beneficial and educational. Jesse, who had done little with watercolors for nearly five years, found himself dabbling in them again. Karin, as she had told Grace, felt like she was little above stick figures when using pencils. Of course, that was not true, but she certainly felt it a weak point of her talents. Working with Jesse improved her skills measurably.

When dinner was over, the couple moved inside and watched TV for a while as their meal settled. Karin played with Jesse's hair and he with her hand and arm, running a finger up and down, laughing when Karin shivered. The teasing had the desired effect, however; Karin turned off the TV and sat on Jesse's lap.

"You're driving me crazy, Jess," she said, as a prelude to a kiss. He mumbled back that that was precisely his plan and slipped his hands under the back of her shirt.

"Bold tonight, aren't we?"

"I can stop."

Smiling, she challenged him. "Liar."

Bursting out laughing, Jesse conceded the point by moving his hands to the front. He loved it when Karin didn't wear anything under her shirt; she was small enough to be able to get away with it.

_Something Leslie or Grace couldn't __do without attracting attention..._

"Jess?"

"Yeah?"

"You looked lost for a moment." Then Karin laughed, stood, and moved to straddle Jesse's legs, sitting on his lap, her chest only inches away from his face. Even more to Jesse's astonishment, she pulled her shirt off and tossed it behind her.

"Wow!" Jesse leaned back, a little more shocked than he thought he'd be. It wasn't that he didn't like what he saw; it was more because he knew Karin was relatively inexperienced with intimacy and her action seemed out of character.

Seeing the initial reaction to her partial disrobing, Karin looked down and covered her chest with folded arms. "Sorry, Jess...I'm...I didn't mean to..." He stopped her with a kiss.

"It's okay, Kari," Jesse said, gently pulling her arms away so as to further admire the sight. Then he shrugged. "I mean, I _was_ hoping for something like this." His words had the desired outcome. Though still a little red in the face, Karin willingly returned to kissing. The fact that Jesse didn't hesitate to place his hands back on her bared breasts helped her regain a sense of security. But there was another thing that kept creeping up in her mind.

"I'm okay, aren't I? My boobs, I mean," she asked, clearly self-conscious about their size. She was answered by Jesse moving a hand and kissing the underlying nipple, then sucking it into his mouth – an action Leslie used to beg him to do. His girlfriend seemed to go rigid in his arms.

"Yeah, they're great. You like that?"

Gasping, panting, Karin felt like she was going to explode and pushed his face against one breast then the other, uttering small moans each time his lips or tongue caressed her. All insecurities about how Jesse saw her vanished. At some point over the next few minutes, Jesse removed his shirt also.

With patience and determination, Jesse continued to minister to his friend's body. He marveled in the ways her breasts were different from Leslie's: bigger nipples, darker, smaller areolas, and a reaction to touch that verged on hysterics. More than once he saw her slip a hand in her shorts, _presumably to touch herself_ – he fervently hoped he would be seeing more of _that_.

"You're pretty good at this, Kari. You do this with your old boyfriends?"

Karin caught her breath and gave him a sharp look. "_No_… Not really, and definitely not enough action downstairs, either," she answered, obviously irritated.

"Sorry."

"Why?"

"Guys can be selfish jerks."

Breathing deeply, Karin pulled herself back to Jesse and held him tightly. "Yeah, they would finger me a little, but once I got them off they weren't interested in much else."

"You're kidding!"

"No, not kidding. Jess?"

"Mmm hmm?"

"Let's go to my bedroom, it's more comfortable there."

"Okay."

Both nineteen year olds walked, shirtless, to the bedroom, Jesse in the rear admiring Karin's lean figure. When they were in the room, Karin shut off the lights. There was still enough ambient illumination from outside to see, but her reason for the change was soon apparent. As Jesse sat on the edge of her bed, Karin slipped off her shorts and panties. This time she smiled as Jesse stared at her.

"How about this? Is this okay?"

Jesse could only nod.

"Jess, let's make love," Karin whispered.

"_What?_ You mean... You want to have _sex_?"

Tickled by the question, Karin put her hands on her hips and laughed. "Jess, I don't know about you but I'm about to come. I want to feel you inside me."

"Yeah, um, me too. I just...I didn't bring anything. Like...protection."

Even more amused now, Karin sat next to Jesse on the bed. "Jess, I'm a virgin: never had sex and I've never used drugs so the chance that I have an STD is zero. I'm on the pill so we don't have to worry about getting pregnant. Does that make you feel better?"

Seeing Jesse still a little hesitant, Karin pushed him back on the bed and started undoing his belt. "Jess, if you don't fuck me right now I'm going to scream. Then I'll embarrass myself and, I don't know, give _myself_ an orgasm. So which do you want?"

Surrendering to his passion, Jesse made his decision, though he appreciated that either way he chose would be quite a treat.

* * *

Grace was still awake when Jesse returned home shortly before midnight. He tried to slip by her without talking but she called out to him.

"Have a good time, Jess?"

"Y-Yeah. How about you?"

Turning, his younger friend saw he was blushing. "I had a nice time, but it probably wasn't as much fun as what you did." Speechless, Jesse stared at Grace. _She knows?_ Grace continued: "So, does Karin give good head?"

"_GRACE!_"

"_JESSE!_" she mocked him in return. "What's wrong? Isn't she a good _fuck_?"

"_Yes...No!_ _YES!_ I mean, why do you care?"

"I _don't_ care, Jess," Grace snapped. Then she turned back to the book she'd been reading and said no more.

A few minutes later, Jesse lay in bed thinking about the evening. He was too worked up to sleep and the jumble of confusing emotions was driving him to distraction.

_Karin _was_ a _great_ fuck_, he readily admitted, but he also recognized that his experience was very limited. There was so much he still didn't understand about females, like Karin's obvious pain when he first entered her and how it had nearly ended the events of the evening right then and there. But even Leslie had not shown as much enthusiasm for sex as Karin, and she was soon insisting she was fine – and gave evidence to that assertion.

He thought back to the one night he and Leslie had made love, and the other times they had engaged in intimate touching and mutual masturbation. Their rendezvous had always been secretive, hidden, and usually sullied with a pall of guilt. At least for him. Karin was expressive and – to Jesse's surprise and delight – completely comfortable about being naked with him and letting him explore her body. More so than he was. She talked of trying things Jesse had only read about in swanky men's magazines. Some of her ideas intrigued him, others did not.

Then there was the nagging guilt - remnants of his conscience whistling about in his head. He tried to identify why he felt guilty.

_Was it because I was fornicating? Was it because I didn't __do something right? Was it because of Leslie?_

Finally, among all these drowsy reflections, Jesse recalled his flatmate's sharp comments. He replayed them in his mind and found that he could not tell if Grace was being sarcastic or expressing true annoyance. He remembered an incident six years earlier when she had slapped him for flirting with Barbara Keane at their pool, and that was because...

_She'd said it was for Leslie._

In the quiet of his room, Jesse asked aloud, "Yeah…who was it for this time?"


	8. Chapter 8: Bad News and Bad News

**Bowing Out Gracefully  
**  
Chapter 8  
Bad News and Bad News

_Disclaimer: The world of Terabithia belongs to Katherine Paterson and her publishers.  
I'm just playing around in it for a while. Sadly, no profit can be received from this story._

The exhilaration of physical intimacy – and the satisfaction it seemed to give him - grew stronger with Jesse Aarons over the next few weeks. He began to wonder if he might, one day, look at Karin Bennett as more than just a lover. Even though their intimate times together were infrequent, they were always intense, passionate, and fulfilling. To an extent.

There remained, still, that nagging doubt, the unanswered question, a distracting and irritating mote of unfinished business that was Leslie Burke. And it was Grace Jacobs who reminded him of _that_ on a regular basis. In the weeks since he and Karin first had sex, Jesse had tried to explain to Grace why he had moved on. She knew about the mess Leslie had gotten into in Cannes, and she knew it had deeply affected Jesse, but in spite of this understanding, Grace's behavior towards Jesse remained cool, and even cold at times.

As Jesse reflected upon his friend's apparent hostility, he again wondered if he had made a mistake bringing her in to share the flat. At first, her company had been welcome and a tonic for his hurt ego and empty soul. Her link to his past filled a void he had missed for a year. He loved the way she kept him straight, even when she playfully nagged him about doing the dishes or washing the bathroom. She was (until recently), feisty, aggressive, demonstrative – at least with him – and cheery. She was so much more of a complete person than the young teen he'd known back at Lark Creek, though traces of her earlier adolescence frequently resurfaced. _No, I'm glad she's here._

* * *

One day in early November, Grace answered Jesse's cell phone while he was showering, it having been left on the dining room table. The voice at the other end was familiar and a glance at the caller ID confirmed her suspicion. She hoped he did not recognize _her_ voice. Asking the caller to wait for a moment, Grace muted the phone and went to the bathroom door. She listened; Jesse was still in the shower; she knocked and cracked the door.

"Jesse, Bill Burke is on the phone. You want to call him back?"

Speechless for a second, Jesse told Grace he would be right out. Within a minute, he was somewhat drier and exited the steamed-up room with a towel wrapped around his waist. He took the phone hoping – somewhat to his surprise and in spite of his lingering anger towards his former girlfriend – that nothing bad had happened to Leslie. Bill's response to his greeting filled him with dread; his voice cracked repeatedly.

"Jess, Jude and I wanted…to let you know…it's Jimmy…" Bill choked-up, "he's – he might be dying."

"_What?_ Where are you, Bill? What's wrong with Jimmy?"

The fact was, since communications between the former couple had broken down, Jesse had no idea that Jimmy Burke had been diagnosed with Leukemia. Even more puzzling was his mother not saying anything to him. Bill continued and explained how it was a recent development: the boy's rapid deterioration, and the first attempt at a bone marrow transplant using his sister Janice as a donor, had failed. Now Leslie was rushing home from New Zealand so they could try her.

In the background, he heard Judy Burke sobbing as Bill continued. "Jess, I know you can't come out, but we wanted you to know since Jimmy thought of you as an older brother."

It was true, too. Jesse's younger brother, Brian, and Jimmy Burke, were best friends. Over the past couple years Jesse had taken them hiking in the mountains whenever he had time, or when Leslie was away filming. A sudden and familiar anger flared up inside Jesse, and it was again directed at his former girlfriend.

_Why didn't she tell me? How could she keep something like this from me?_

Barely able to remain calm, Jesse spoke with Bill for a few more minutes and then with Judy. Neither adult mentioned his relationship with their daughter.

In the other room, Grace sat patiently waiting for Jesse to finish his call. While she could not hear the conversation, it was clear something serious had happened. She wondered if it had to do with Leslie. When she heard Jesse stop talking and shut his cell phone, Grace immediately walked back in and looked at her friend.

"Jess, is everything okay?"

He explained the situation in a sad voice, but felt genuinely better when Grace sat next to him and put her arm around his back. When finished, they sat together in silence for a long time, Grace offering her comfort and Jesse feeling his sadness and pain ease a little. This was not the first time Grace had done this for him, and Jesse realized she was better at comforting him than Karin – in some ways. Karin's efforts leaned more towards heavy physical distractions; Grace's support was more purely emotional.

"Are you going to go to L.A. to see Jimmy?" she asked much later that evening.

"Can't afford it. A round trip ticket would cost a couple thousand dollars."

"Could Mr. Burke pay for it?"

"_Grace, I can't ask him that!" _He saw she didn't understand and continued more evenly: "He put _millions_ into the farm and lost much of the rest of his money in the market crashes. I mean, he's probably still got plenty, but…no, I wouldn't ask."

"Jess, I can…"

"_NO!_ Thanks, Grace, but no."

This short exchange seemed to poison the previous couple hours of renewed civility, something they had not enjoyed for a number of weeks. To Jesse's surprise, however, Grace came up behind the couch, and putting her hands on his shoulders leaned over his head and looked at him upside down. She looked so funny Jesse started laughing and felt better again.

"Anything I can do?" she asked sincerely. Then standing up, she started to massage Jesse's shoulders.

"That feels nice. Thanks, Gracie, I mean, _Grace_."

"It's alright to call me Gracie, Jess."

The strong hands, arms, and shoulders of the swimmer helped Jesse unwind, and he had nearly dozed off when his cell rang again. This time it was Karin. Grace stopped and left the room again while Jesse shared his news with her. A few minutes later, he called out that he was being picked up and would be back later.

With her flatmate gone, Grace lay on the couch where Jesse had sat minutes before. She curled up with a pillow and cried.

* * *

Two weeks passed before Jesse heard again from Bill Burke, but this call was more promising. Jimmy was responding well to the transplant and for the first time in months, he and Judy held some hope. Throughout the call, however, Jesse felt Bill had something else to say, and suspected it was about Leslie, but her name was never brought up apart from the medical procedure.

When finished, Jesse tapped on Grace's bedroom door to share the good news. Unfortunately, he opened the door before being invited in and just barely saw a book sailing through the air: He ducked and it missed him by an inch.

"Sorry!" he called out after shutting the door. "That was Bill Burke…" and he gave her the gist of their conversation. As he finished, Grace opened the door wearing a robe. Jesse looked down, apologized again, and said he was going over to have dinner with Karin.

When he was gone, Grace sat on the edge of the bed and buried her face in her hands. Jesse had forgotten she was cooking for them that evening.

_Jesse Aarons, please stop this nonsense_, she prayed.

* * *

As Jesse walked to Karin's place, he was filled with a sick feeling of disgust and self-loathing. He knew Amy was again out of town, which meant they had the place to themselves, and which also meant, in one form or another, sex. Jesse's brisk walk turned into a slow and determined trudge, and he questioned his motives when he realized he was really going to see Karin for physical pleasure, not so much to share his good news with her and have a quiet meal. Yet, in spite of this epiphany, he still saw Karin as a good friend. She had not led him astray. She had not been dishonest with him. She was not a bad person. Their relationship had simply evolved in a way that left Jesse feeling guilty and uncomfortable, and seemingly unable to change.

When he arrived at his destination, he was instantly swept up into the cyclone of sex that had come to largely define the relationship.

Barely ten minutes into his visit, dinner was forgotten and he and Karin lay naked on her bed reveling in the excitement of the moment. Jesse let her stroke him with vigor so that he climaxed quickly and messily, all to her giggles and obvious delight. Next, as in most of their previous rendezvous, she took care of herself while Jesse stimulated her breasts and nipples. It was thoroughly enjoyable for her and Jesse was content as long as he kept his mind on the physical pleasures, which, admittedly, was not difficult. Karin always seemed to find some new way to arouse him - and keep him distracted - and painfully erect. This evening was no different.

After the first round of orgasms, she rose and went to the bathroom, returning with a warm washcloth and towel. She then proceeded to clean Jesse, ignoring his questions. When finished, she asked if he'd like to try oral sex – a first for them. He _was_ genuinely curious about it and accepted. It was something he and Leslie had not tried.

The warmth of her mouth around him was wonderfully pleasing, and Jesse laid back to enjoy it. Karin, however, was not experienced with this method of pleasuring a man and had not learned the techniques to do more than keep Jesse hard and distracted. Neither did Jesse know what to tell her to do. After a while, she released him and talked about the experience.

"Did I do it right, Jess?"

"I guess. Never had it done to me before. It felt great."

"But not enough to make you come." It was a statement more than a question.

"I don't know. Maybe because I did a while ago."

"Jess, that's _never_ stopped you before. Look, do you want to fuck?" Although the offer was genuine, Jesse couldn't help but feel the suggestion was a consolation prize. He had another idea.

_Don't do it..._ something told him.

"Sure.... Or, um, would you like me to do that to you? Oral?"

"Really? You'd try it?"

Seeing his lover was more than enthusiastic about the idea, Jesse nodded. Inside, however, he wondered why he was offering it.

_You're digging yourself in deeper, Aarons..._

"Okay, just a second." Karin again got up and returned a couple minutes later. "Had to wash a bit. Sorry."

Only partly understanding what she meant, Jesse shrugged. "Okay, Kari…um, what do I do?"

Laughing, his partner flopped on the bed and spread her legs. Then she motioned for Jesse to move to a more accessible position. A moment later, he found himself fact-to-face with a part of her anatomy he had only investigated with his hands up to this point.

"I'm not exactly experienced either, Jess, but I guess you uh - lick here, like when you touch me."

It took Jesse about ten minutes of experimenting to find out the best way to stimulate Karin enough that she would climax – or at least one of the ways. Jesse also found _he_ enjoyed her orgasms more this way since he could feel more of her responses to his touches. The joy and unity in this form of sex was intense – _very intense_ - and as soon as Karin had reached her peak and he felt her calming, he moved up and entered her.

It was the best sex they had ever experienced. The best by far. The only drawback was that Jesse climaxed almost immediately to the sight and feel of Karin's writhing body. When Jesse had finished, he rolled over but Karin, without delay, rolled atop him and insisted they do it again, but Jesse was spent and no amount of stimulation could give him another erection.

"It's too soon," he laughed into Karin's chest.

"Not for me!" Rolling back to her side of the bed, Karin began to masturbate vigorously. When he had recovered a bit, Jesse helped and then watched as Karin enjoyed her third orgasm. Then, finally spent, she wrapped her arms around him and both drifted off to sleep.

Jesse awoke about an hour later and found Karin in the kitchen, still naked, disposing of their now burnt dinner. A radio played a popular tune and Karin was singing. She hadn't seen or heard him, so he returned to the bedroom and dressed. As he did, the disgust and guilt that had accompanied him hours earlier resurfaced: Guilt from what he had let them do, disgust with himself for what he was _about_ to do. He returned to the kitchen.

"Hey! Why are you dressed? I thought you'd spend the night." The innocent and happy smile on her face tore at Jesse's heart and he nearly changed his mind.

"N-No, I, um, gotta go."

Still unaware that he was in a state, Karin put her arms around Jesse and kissed him passionately. Until she felt him let go.

"What's wrong, Jess?"

"I gotta go, Kari. I - I can't do this any more. I'm sorry. I…I can't…"

"_Jesse?_"

"No, I let this get out of hand."

"What?" Backing up, bewildered, Karin covered her chest and was barely able to whisper. "Why? Did I do something…?"

Jesse shook his head no as tears formed in her eyes; he knew he had to go. He felt horrible – worse than horrible. He should have told her when he got there but he was too much of a coward. And he wanted the sex, too.

Nude, vulnerable, stunned, crying, Karin was speechless, but Jesse had one other thing he had to say. "I don't want you to call me, Kari. It's going to be hard at school, but this has to stop. We can't go on like…" and then Jesse finally choked up. Ashamed and dismayed at his own stupidity and insensitivity, he ran off into the night.

Back in her apartment, still reeling from what Jesse had said, Karin sat on the sofa and sank into a depression of the type only a recently dumped person can understand.


	9. Chapter 9: Friction Builds

**Bowing Out Gracefully**

Chapter 9  
Friction Builds

_Disclaimer: The world of Terabithia belongs to Katherine Paterson and her publishers.  
I'm just playing around in it for a while. Sadly, no profit can be received from this story._

Grace Jacobs was becoming frantic with worry. It was nearly three in the morning and Jesse had not returned from his evening with Karin. She had called his cell phone a couple times but it was off and went straight to voicemail. Inside, Grace knew she was being silly and overprotective – even intrusive. She knew that he was probably spending the night with his girlfriend. He had never done _that_ before, but given the escalation of their relationship it was not difficult to foresee.

For the third time she tried to go to sleep, but only lay in bed with alternating visions of Jesse and Karin having sex, or Jesse lying injured – or worse – on the side of the road having been mugged walking home.

_So much for an early morning swim at the Y..._

At three-thirty, the racket from a banging door in the living room announced Jesse's return. A crash of books and a stream of curses (sure to wake up Mrs. Hill) followed a couple seconds later. In her bed, Grace shook her head dolefully. Satisfied that Jesse was safe, she began to relax and go to sleep.

"Hi Gaaa-wacie guwl," a throaty voice from beyond her dreams startled her. She seldom recalled her dreams, but Grace was quite certain she had never experienced one that stank. Obviously, it wasn't a dream.

"What...? _Jesse?_" Grace tried to sit up but found Jesse Aarons lying, reeking of alcohol and something else she couldn't quite identify, across her. "Jesse!" Completely awake now, Grace saw that she was pinned under a largely inert body. She wasn't afraid after turning and seeing for certain it was her friend. "Jess, _what_ are you _doing_?" No answer: he appeared to be out cold.

Extricating herself from the dead weight, Grace gagged when she realized Jesse's previously unidentified odor was vomit. _Hopefully his own_, she sighed. _Crap, I just washed the sheets, too._

"Jesse Aarons," she punched his arm, "get off my bed."

"_Oww...wha?_ _That snot Kari_." He belched loudly. Grace moved back fearing an oral eruption and turned on her nightstand light. "_No, no, turn it on...off...Gwacie, whatcha here for? Uh-oh, I'd better get to the..._" but it was too late, he vomited on Grace's bed. Below, she heard Mrs. Hill yelling at the noise above her room.

"_Damn it, Jesse, you're going to clean that up_..._NO!_" He had passed out, face-first, into the mess. Swearing like a sailor, Grace stormed to the closet and pulled out some towels to begin cleaning up.

Once, a couple years back, her brother had come home very drunk and done much the same to her. She cleaned him up, got him into bed, and made sure he never forgot it. This was not her brother, however, and with every wipe and gag, Grace plotted revenge against her friend. It would be ruthless, too. Around five o'clock, with Jesse still in her bed, but reasonably cleaned and lying on a layer of towels, Grace went to the living room couch to get some sleep.

Awakening two hours later, and unable to get back to sleep, she decided to start her day. That plan lasted until she got to the bathroom and found Jesse asleep, or passed-out, on the floor, with ample evidence of another unsuccessful attempt at vomiting _in_ the toilet.

This time she kicked him in the rear. Hard.

"Jesse, get UP!" He didn't stir. Grace got a cup of cold water and threw it on his face. In return, Jesse vomited again, opened his eyes for a second, and returned to his prior state of unconsciousness. He also, Grace realized, had peed himself.

_Oh, __lovely!_

Unsure of what to do, Grace took another towel from the rapidly depleting supply and began to clean up again. While doing so she called her brother. Tom, however, none too happy about being roused early on a Sunday morning, told her to check his breathing and if it's regular and he comes-to in a while that she should not worry. "Otherwise, call 911." And he hung up.

"Thanks for nothing," she shouted at the disconnected line.

"Huh? Is that you?"

"Oh, look who's alive…for now. Jess, get up…"

"No, no, no…Kari, stop yelling," Jesse pleaded, still slurring his words.

"It's _Grace_, Jess, not _Kari_."

"Oh…yeah, sorry."

_You better be._ Then feeling just a tiny bit sorry for her friend, Grace asked more kindly, "What happened to you, Jess?"

"I feel like shit, Gracie," he moaned. "Lord, my head hurts." It wasn't really an answer but Grace let it slide. Then, with great effort, Jesse hauled himself up and vomited again, this time getting what little remained inside him into the toilet.

"Oh, happy day," Grace murmured.

Raising himself to his knees, Jesse wiped his face and seemed to rally a bit. "I think I better get a shower, Grace. Sorry."

"Hang on, stupid, let me get you some aspirin first." She returned a minute later with the medicine and a cup of juice. Jesse took it, and with obvious difficulty, kept it down.

Again, with immense effort, Jesse hoisted himself onto the toilet seat and started undressing. A couple minutes later, with his shirt still on and only one shoe off, Grace offered to help.

Jesse tried to joke. "Don't look, Grace."

"Yeah, right." She took his other shoe off and put his cell phone and wallet on the sink. "Just get into the tub, Jess."

"But I'm still dressed…mostly."

"Get in." It wasn't a request. So Jesse half-walked, half-crawled into the tub and sat. "Ready?" Grace asked, though she really didn't care much one way or the other.

"For what?"

Grace turned the cold water on for the shower and watched with grim satisfaction as Jesse whimpered pathetically. Then she turned the water warmer to shut him up. He looked up at her, embarrassed but thankful. In reply, Grace turned around, and from under the sink retrieved his bottle of hand lotion. "Here, you want this?"

Jesse shook his head no and pulled the shower curtain shut.

* * *

Despite the anger and disgust with her flatmate, Grace returned to the bathroom door every so often. She had to be sure Jesse was still moving and that he had not slipped under the water. After an hour, it opened and she saw him shuffling to the bedroom with a towel around his waist. He didn't look a lot better, but at least he could move on his own. Following a quick clean up of the loo (she left most of it to Jesse) Grace knocked on his bedroom door and entered.

She found him curled up on the floor with a blanket, lying next to the radiator. He was shivering violently. Cursing, Grace helped him into bed and dug a couple old blankets from his closet – not an easy job considering its state. But when Jesse continued to shake, and then began to babble incoherently, she got into the bed and warmed him by snuggling up and wrapping her arms around him, all the while trying to avoid his rather unpleasant breath.

Nearly a half-hour passed before Jesse calmed and Grace felt him slip into a comfortable slumber. She remained a while longer to be certain he was better before leaving the room. The door was left open a few inches.

As the day passed, the only sound from Jesse was his light snoring. Finally, about seven that evening, Grace heard him shuffling around to use the bathroom. Then he appeared in the living room, wrapped in all three blankets, looking supremely pathetic. Flopping on the couch, he keeled over and groaned. Grace brought him some more Tylenol and water, which he took wordlessly. She then returned to the kitchen where she had been making some soup and a sandwich. Putting the food on a tray, she returned to the living room and sat opposite Jesse. He watched her until he saw the food, then covered his head.

"Not hungry, Jess?" teased Grace mercilessly.

A groan was the only response.

"I left the bathroom for you to clean up. Oh, and my sheets are in the hamper in your room. You better do them soon. Puke smells awful if it sits around too long." She ended the suggestion with a noisy slurp of soup.

Jesse peeked through a hole in the blankets. "Your sheets?"

Grace smiled coolly and nodded.

"Why your sheets?"

Amused, Grace continued to eat, taking a few more bites of the meal before answering. "Because you threw up all over them last night…Or was it this morning?" Seeing utter confusion on her friend's face, Grace set her dinner down and told Jesse what had happened over the past fifteen hours. By the time she had finished the tale, Jesse looked almost as sick as the night before.

"Grace, I'm, um, so sorry…" But he stopped. Grace's hand was up and she was shaking her head.

"Jesse, just get feeling better. Tom did that to me once so I know the routine." She looked at him intently for a few seconds and then went back to eating. Jesse covered his head again.

"So, you and Karin really partied last night…. I guess Karin got home okay?"

It was a full minute before Jesse answered, and when he did, when he told Grace what had happened he thought she would hit him.

"Jesse Aarons, are you telling me you two broke up? And right after, uh…_I don't believe you!_ Why would you do something like that?" No reply. "That _really_ is despicable, you know. If you were going to break up with her why not do it…? Never mind, I don't want to know. I'm glad I didn't call Karin when you didn't come home last night."

"Why would you do that?"

"Because I was worried about you, stupid. You're not a late-night person."

"Sorry."

"Don't worry about me; it's Karin you should apologize to."

"No, I don't want to talk to her. I feel shitty enough as it is."

_Good!_ "Then it's really over? You two got along so well."

"It was an illusion, believe me. All the wrong reasons…" Jesse drifted off, shaking his head with disgust at himself and closing the subject, and Grace knew better than to push him. There was, however, one last thing Jesse had to say. "Thanks for warming me up. I've never had the chills like that before."

"Oh, you remember that?"

"Yeah. Really, Gracie, thanks."

"No problem. Now I'm one of the lucky few who can say they've slept with the famous Jesse Aarons." Smiling, she rose and took the rest of her dinner to the kitchen where she ate alone and in silence.

* * *

Leslie Burke returned to the States in mid-December and immediately contacted Adric Webber, or more accurately, she tried to contact him. Once again, their schedules had prevented a speedy reunion, but the following day she received a return email: Adric would be in town the following weekend and wanted to see her. Leslie knew it would be an awkward reunion, they had parted on a bad note, but over the past weeks they had begin trading emails and she felt hopeful all was not lost with the friendship.

Leslie's first few days were consumed with her family. When she first came home, Jimmy, weak but improving steadily, clung to Leslie for an hour until he fell asleep. While he slept, she shared pictures and stories with Janice and her parents. And when Jimmy woke up, they all celebrated her twentieth birthday – two months overdue, but the party was a great success and left Leslie with a warm feeling she had not felt in months.

Later that first week back, Bill and Judy had planned to speak with their daughter about her career and the toll it was taking on her and the family. They needn't have bothered. Leslie approached them first and said she was seriously considering ending "This nonsense," as she called it more frequently. She sited the stress, the terrible schedule, the lack of time with her family. She did not mention Jesse Aarons, her parents noted.

"It's not fun any more," she sighed. "The money's okay, but I have enough now to get through a good college and that sort of stuff. And after working with the screenwriters on this last film I think – if I were to stay in the business – that writing might be the way to go."

Of course, Bill and Judy were delighted - professionally. Leslie had become an excellent writer and had even had one of her original plays produced in high school. Personally, too, they were more than relieved. No one liked living in L.A., Bill knew Jack Aarons needed help on the farm, and Judy missed Mary Aarons terribly. They had been talking about moving back to Lark Creek for months and now they floated the idea with Leslie, though she was old enough now to remain in the city on her own.

But Leslie disagreed. She had found herself far from mature enough to handle the city life. Her issues with drinking and the growing dependence on prescription drugs to help her sleep were frightening her. As soon as her parents mentioned returning to Virginia, the young woman's face lit up and she begged to be allowed to go with them, at least until she got into a college. Leslie's parents did not hesitate to let her know she was more than welcome.

Yet, again, Bill and Judy discussed that night, the subject of Jesse Aarons had not been broached. It was, Bill noted, as if the boy had never existed.

In her room, Leslie made a quiet call to Roanoke and scheduled an appointment with a drug rehab facility.

* * *

Spago, on Canon Drive in Beverly Hills, had been synonymous with Hollywood celebrities for decades. That Adric had asked Leslie to dine there piqued her curiosity. Her friend had never been ostentatious, and they were certain to be noticed within a block of the establishment. The idea of male companionship, however, settled her somewhat and Leslie spent an hour before Adric arrived pacing the front sidewalk to the immense curiosity of the neighbors.

But she was also harboring a wariness of spirit. In their recent correspondence, Leslie noticed subtle changes in her friend's tone. If she didn't known better, Leslie would have thought he was making a play for her. But that was absurd! Adric had never shown or expressed such an interest.

_People change…__ He _is_ cute, reasonably intelligent and well mannered…_

Leslie was torn from her fantasy when a shiny new red Porsche screeched to a stop only inches from the curb, her parents, packing inside, looked out the window. A _maybe that's why we haven't heard about Jesse_ look was exchanged between them.

"I thought this kid was supposed to be sensible and down-to-earth. _A red Porsche?_" Bill shook his head, though he was glad it was not Jack Harrow taking his daughter out.

Back on the street, Adric jumped out of the sports car and greeted Leslie with an affectionate and welcomed hug. The slightly more affectionate kiss he landed on her cheek was a touch more startling. Holding her door open, Adric cheerily waved Leslie into the car. Then they were off. Leslie almost told her friend that pealing away from her house might not sit well with her parents, but she did not want to start their reunion by sounding immature. Especially as she was a year and a half older than he was.

"Like my new car?" Adric asked between shifting and gunning the powerful engine.

Leslie smiled as politely as she could. In fact, she hated loud cars. "Yeah…I never thought of you as a Porsche..."

"A gift from my parents, Les," he interrupting, then added: "I got the part!" When he saw her confused look, he rolled his eyes. "The part, Les, the one I wrote you about. _Remember?_ I'll be playing Jack Frake in the Sparrowhawk Trilogy. It's a five year deal!"

Leslie nodded, now recalling an email a few weeks back about how her friend had been auditioning for the part of a young British man banished to the Colonies shortly before the American Revolution. "That's right, I remember now. Congratulations."

"I am so pumped about this. I'll have to put off college till it's over, but the money's excellent and I'll be set for life." The entire time he had been expressing his delight, Adric had been pounding the steering wheel. "Les, you know Al Benson, right?"

"The director? Sure."

"In about three years they will start filming the role of Alyssa, my screen wife. I told him he ought to think about you for the part."

_That_ made Leslie laugh. The driver asked why.

"Adric, you know Benson, he casts his own films. Besides, who knows where I'll be in three years?" Leslie had not told him of the plans to discontinue her acting career. Something told her it might not be such a good time to bring that up, either.

Pouting, Adric screeched to a halt to keep from hitting a gaggle of pedestrians. That wasn't half as bad as him opening his window and flipping off the small group of tourists. Leslie started to hide her face until she remembered the car windows were heavily tinted.

_He _has_ changed!_

There followed a long and uncomfortable silence as they finished the journey. As each minute passed, Leslie was more appalled by the transformation in her friend. In their short trip together, she realized that Adric was going through the same metamorphosis she had earlier in the year. He was letting the glamour and money of the industry alter him, and it was doing so fast.

The meal, although excellent, was marred by only infrequent chat. When they did talk, Adric would press Leslie about her future plans. Finally, she had to tell him that her parents were moving back to Virginia. Before she could say she would accompany them, however, his face lit up and he offered her a place to stay (with him) for as long as she needed. It was painfully obvious he wanted her there for more than a few days. Or weeks. Or months.

The evening went downhill from there. Leslie took careful note that Adric was saying "we" this and "we" that in all his comments. She tried to hint at her situation, and realized she should just come out and tell him, but in her defense, there was little opportunity. The boy just wouldn't shut up.

As the meal ended, and just when Leslie thought the date couldn't get any worse, Adric suggested she come over to see his new apartment. This had all the signs of a complete disaster. Leslie was beginning to suspect her friend was using. His behavior was so altered from the previous spring that she would never have recognized him had she not known him by sight. Still, there was a decision to make, an important one. If she went back to the apartment with Adric, she might risk more than a friendship. No, she wouldn't go, but how to get out of it? The answer was so simple Leslie almost didn't see it.

"Adric, I need to go home. My parents and I are moving back to Virginia in a few days and I've had it with the industry. I notified my agent to cancel my contract for the African movie." Then, with more nerve and emotion, "I hate what I've become over the past few years. I've lost my best friend and made a fool of myself. Yes, it's my fault, but I'm not going to put myself in a position to make those mistakes any more. So, would you please take me home, because, quite honestly, I don't like what you've become either."

In stunned silence, Adric Webber's face turned from surprise to annoyance to anger. His plan had been to get Leslie back to his place, have her try some cocaine, and hopefully get into her pants. Instead, he stood and said he would be right back. It was about ten minutes before Leslie realized she had been left stranded. With the check, too. That evening marked the end of her association with a young man she had once thought so sensitive and promising. She never heard from Adric Webber again.

* * *

Arriving at Woodrum Field via Atlanta, a Boeing 797 touched down on the evening of December twentieth, ending its eight-hour flight from Los Angeles. It was cold and clear in Roanoke when the five members of the Burke family returned to Virginia after their long absence. Jack and Mary Aarons greeted them with flowers, gifts, hugs and tears of joy in the busy terminal that made the scene look more like a family reunion, which, in fact, it was in many ways.

The hour-long trip from Roanoke to Lark Creek started noisily but soon quieted down as Jan and Jimmy fell asleep. In the front seat, Bill and Jack talked about plans for the farm in the coming year. Judy and Mary spoke of mutual friends and a Christmas party. And, as had been the custom for many months, no one said a word about Jesse in front of Leslie, until Jimmy woke up and asked if Jess would put him to bed.

Over her shoulder, Judy saw her daughter stiffen. "Mare, is Jess home for the semester break?"

"He'll be home tomorrow night."

"How are things going in Boston? We spoke with him a few weeks ago, when Jimmy was…well," she cleared her throat, "but he didn't say much."

"I'm not sure, Jude," Mary replied significantly, sending her friend a non-verbal warning. Leslie did not see that, but Mary Aarons' next statement stunned her. "He's been down since he broke up with that girl he was dating, Karin, I think was her name." Behind them, both mothers sensed the tension rising in Leslie, but had already agreed they would press things no further. They wanted to nudge Leslie into action, not frighten her away, and for that reason, they mentioned nothing about Jesse's female flatmate.


	10. Chapter 10: A Cold Christmas

**Bowing Out Gracefully**

Chapter 10  
A Cold Christmas

_Disclaimer: The world of Terabithia belongs to Katherine Paterson and her publishers.  
I'm just playing around in it for a while. Sadly, no profit can be received from this story._

The day before Christmas, Judy Burke and Mary Aarons were enjoying a leisurely walk around the seasonally bare fields of their adjacent farm. A light snow the evening before remained, and heavy, dark clouds threatened further precipitation. Arm-in-arm, the women walked in silence, amazed that they had found time to be together so soon before Christmas with their guests, and their traditional holiday dinner-party the next day. However, those who had once been a burden and distraction, Ellie and Brenda, were now a gift. The siblings, with May's assistance, had taken it upon themselves to give their mother and her best friend a _real_ gift and assumed complete responsibility for the Christmas activities. Further assistance came from their husbands, Anton and Toby, and May's most recent boyfriend, Bobby Herron (who was constantly reminded that if he married May she would become May Aarons-Herron).

Stopping at one of the barns to check on the milk cows, both women laughed at how they once found the animals' smell so repulsive. These days, coming home with manure on shoes was a given.

Seeing the cows were warm, fed and comfortable, they moved to the neighboring chicken coop and repeated the process. The low, content murmur of brooding hens was like music. Three dozen cages, one beneath each fowl, had already started to refill after the morning collection. It had taken two years to learn how to keep hens and produce eggs, but the surplus eggs, purchased by local families and markets, more than paid for the creatures.

Next, the mothers visited the shelter that once held sheep; their failed attempt to produce their own wool removed the necessity of those animals and the structure now stored equipment. The locks and braces were checked for tampering.

With the daily rounds complete, Mary and Judy started back to the house as the first new flakes started to fall. In the still mountain air, cold though it was, there was a magic about the snow that continued to bring out the child in both adults. Christmas and snow: They go together. Along the way, they saw a lone figure standing still in the woods by the north creek.

"Jesse," Mary breathed quietly. Sadly.

"How is he, Mare?"

"Don't rightly know. He never leaves his room; even Ellie can't get him to talk." They resumed their slow pace. "And Leslie?"

"She's quiet. Spends all her time with Jimmy and Jan, or investigating colleges on-line. I think she's given up on starting this spring though."

"Judy, Jesse's leaving the twenty-sixth."

"_WHAT?_ I thought he would be here at least another week."

"So did we. He says he wants to visit Tom Jacobs in Woodbridge before heading back to Boston. I tried to talk him out of it but he just walked away." Judy heard her friend sniffle, and it was not due to the cold. "I'm worried about him. He hasn't been this down since, well, you know." Mary was referring to the summer before Jesse and Leslie entered ninth grade and she had broken up with him.

"If it were only that easy. I can deal with drugs, but this is…" she almost said _crazy_, but that would not have been polite. "…sad."

"Kinda funny, too."

"How so?"

"You, Judy, my dear friend, spent about two years trying to keep them apart."

In a false-hurt tone, Judy Burke tried to defend herself. "I did not. I just wanted them to take it slowly."

"Uh-huh. Okay."

Following another long silence, Judy noted, "It's very different now – it's been different, especially since Anton came back into our life. I had so much guilt."

"I know, Jude."

* * *

"So, little bro, are you going to sit around here with your thumb up you butt all evening or you going to talk to her?"

Jesse gave his eldest sister an evil look. "Thumb up my butt sounds better. Besides, she can talk to me if she wants, too."

Ready to strangle her brother, Ellie Aarons Walsh finally gave up and returned to the party.

It was Christmas day and the Aarons and Burke families were mingling happily and enjoying each other's company. All, that is, except Jesse and Leslie who had made it a point to avoid anything approaching close proximity. They might have been able to pull it off, too, were it not for the gift exchange after dinner. As it turned out, it would have been much better if neither attended. The only things exchanged between the longtime friends were disinterested looks and Hallmark cards. Watching closely, the parents of both carefully hid their disappointment, others pretended to ignore the tension in the room.

Shortly after the exchanges were finished, Jesse caught Bill and Judy in private, thanked them, and said he was leaving the next day to visit Tom Jacobs before returning to school. The disappointment on the two adults' faces was plain to see, but Jesse ignored it. He then snuck back into the room, said goodbye to Jimmy Burke and left with no further ado.

It was hours later when the rest of his family returned home. Brian was being carried by Ellie while her own son clung to Anton's neck and looked on jealously. Jesse was watching _Miracle on 34__th__ Street_ when everyone entered the family room, most becoming quiet upon seeing him drinking a beer - and three other empty cans on the table.

Mary Aarons shooed everyone to bed except May who was allowed to wait on the porch with her boyfriend until his ride home arrived. Then she pointed to her husband and Jesse; he understood the message and sat with his son.

Little was spoken over the next half hour. Jack Aarons respected his son's obvious desire for silence, but he eventually said that he was available if Jesse wanted to talk. He finally went to bed when May came in.

The following morning, Jesse was gone before anyone else was up. All agreed it was the most uncomfortable Christmas they had experienced since the Burke's moved into the area. Everyone was cranky and tired, Mary Aarons most of all. Half way through breakfast, she excused herself and returned to bed, complaining of feeling ill. When she was gone, no one could recall the last time she had been sick.

* * *

The front door of the Jacobs' house opened before Jesse had the chance to ring the doorbell, and Tom pulled his best friend into a long and warm embrace. Over his shoulder, Jesse saw Grace sitting on the couch chatting with a younger girl whose unique red hair and curls identified her as Madison Keane. Jesse had not seen her since they had moved from Lark Creek four and a half years earlier.

"Geez, Tom, is that Maddie?" Jesse asked. "She's, um, grown."

"Yeah, and keep your hands off her, Jess."

Laughing, the two young men walked into the house and greeted the girls and Mr. Jacobs. Jesse then saw a woman come out of the kitchen and take Al's hand. Surprised at first, he then immediately chided himself. _Mrs. Jacobs has been dead six years, why shouldn't he be seeing someone?_ She was introduced to Jesse as Annie Thorne.

Jesse sat on the couch next to Maddie and she began pelting him with questions about Lark Creek and their mutual acquaintances. As their conversation progressed, Jesse saw and felt the old Keane friendliness in the girl. She was much like her sister Barbara: happy, friendly, and completely comfortable throwing herself at him in a flirty sort of way – but with limits. Beyond that, however, there was a haunting emptiness in her eyes, like he could see right through them into a blackness beyond. The scars of her parent's abuse were more hidden than when she had left town, but still visible if you knew where to look.

They talked about Jen finishing medical school, Maggie starting medical school, Barbara's disturbing behavior her first year at college and poor choice of male friends. She told him a bit about herself and then stopped abruptly, as if she was going to give an update about Teri. The haunted look appeared again – and was hidden just as rapidly.

"And how's your girlfriend? Leslie, right?" When the room went silent, she understood instantly that this was not a topic of conversation. "Sorry," she whispered.

"It's okay, Maddie. I saw her yesterday at our annual Christmas party with the Burke family. She looked well."

There were a few uncomfortable seconds of silence and then Grace jumped up. Taking Jesse's hand – to the surprise of everyone – she led him off saying she wanted to show him something. In Jesse's mind, he could only imagine how Tom was mutilating _that_ comment.

Grace led Jesse to a small reading room where the family had set up their Christmas tree. It was beautifully simple, decorated with but a couple strings of small white lights and all handmade ornaments. In the fading light of the winter afternoon, it was truly representative of the Jacobs family.

Jesse's attention was drawn back to his friend a few seconds later as she handed him a gift from under the tree. The package was wrapped in the comics section of some Sunday newspaper. It gave Jesse a jolt and his breath caught: Leslie had often wrapped his presents the same way.

"You okay, Jess?" Grace asked, seeing her friend zone out for a second.

"Yeah, sorry, Gracie…" She smiled at the nickname now. "You know me, mind always rambling here and there."

Looking down, Jesse opened the small package – obviously a book – and laughed. "How'd you know I loved _The Far Side_?" Then looking at Grace, gave a small chuckle. "Thanks. Isn't this his first collection since he started drawing again?"

"Yes. Merry Christmas, Jess." And adding yet another shocker to his very brief visit, Grace put her arms around his neck and kissed him on the cheek. Then briefly on his mouth, lingering just long enough to make Jesse wonder if it was a completely platonic gesture. But whatever the meaning, he didn't feel it inappropriate and he wrapped his arms around her.

"I'm glad you're up there with me, Gracie. I don't think I could have made it through the past few weeks without you."

For a long minute, the two embraced. Then Grace let go, stepped back, and with a mischievous look asked Jesse what he'd gotten her for Christmas. He laughed. "Actually, I have something for your entire family, if I can get everyone to sit still long enough."

Re-entering the living room, the first thing Jesse noticed was Al Jacobs' questioning glance. He made a note to himself to speak with his friends' father and ease his concerns about himself and Grace. Otherwise, the evening was fun and eventful. Jesse almost immediately noticed that his feeling of ease was from _not_ being in close proximity to Leslie, though when he mentioned this to Grace she seemed to not understand his logic.

With dinner finished and the dished cleaned, Jesse offered Al his Christmas gift of drawing his family, and was delighted at the acceptance. With that, Al, Tom and Grace started arguing about what they should wear until Jesse told them he could simply leave their clothes off. Tom turned to him with a devilish grin, Grace blushed, and Al said they would all wear their best clothes, ending Jesse's input to the matter. Shortly thereafter, posed next to the tree, Jesse began.

Unlike most artists, Jesse's ability to imprint images in his short-term memory allowed the subjects to leave the scene after only a quarter hour or so. When he gave the word, the Jacobs left him to his work and returned to their other guests. Al looked in on him an hour later, admired the drawing's progress, and left with nothing more than a friendly clap on the shoulder.

By ten o'clock, Jesse had finished the majority of the drawing and called his host back in. Delighted, Al gave the young man a one-armed-hug; then he told Jesse to sit and closed the door.

"Everything going well with you and Grace, Jesse?" Al asked after watching Jesse for a few seconds.

"Sure. She's great having around. Kinda like a little bit of home away from home."

"Hm. I just wanted to check. She certainly seems happy. Anything you two need? Grace isn't big on asking for things."

"No, sir, um, Al. Life's pretty simple for us." Then he recalled his plans for the next few days. "Al, I'm heading back in a couple days. Want me to take Grace, too?"

Al's face fell. "I thought you two were staying through New Year's Day."

"Well…you see, I was invited to a couple parties. I told Grace she could go with me to see more of college life."

"Are these frat parties?" he asked warily.

"No, I stay away from those. Too wild."

Al smiled gratefully, knowing exactly what Jesse meant. "I guess it's up to her. You taking the bus back or the train?"

"After riding that bus from Roanoke? I'll definitely take Amtrak, unless Grace really has her heart set on a smelly bus."

Nodding, Al led them back to the others, his heart and mind less than completely satisfied with the conversation.

* * *

The next three days were filled mostly with Jesse and Tom spending hours together in his room talking about life in general and school in particular. They also spoke about their romances and Jesse could tell his friend was completely smitten with Maddie Keane. He would joke about their lack of a deep physical intimacy, but admitted it was definitely best for her and their relationship.

"I could still kill that fucker for what he did to her," he spat vehemently one afternoon, referring to her father. "Maddie's been in heavy counseling for years, but I'm glad she's finally leaving it behind."

"You've been a good friend to her, Tom. She probably needed that more than anything."

Tom shrugged, his face a little pink. "Grace tells me you had a new girlfriend but ended it before Christmas. She give good head?"

"Jesus Christ, Tom, your sister asked me the exact same thing," Jesse snapped. Then he gave Tom a sly smile. "But yeah, she was amazing in bed."

Jesse talked a bit about his experiences, like adolescents and young men do sometimes, trying to appear macho and knowledgeable. When Jesse told Tom how Karin liked to _perform_ for him, he choked badly on his soda and cursed, his face full of wonder.

"She'd do _herself_? While you _watched_? You're joking, aren't you? You're not! God, I'd give my left _nut_ for a girl to give me that kind of show." Flopping back into bed, Tom had a dreamy look on his face. "I suppose Maddie and I will get there some day, but until then," he held up his left arm, waving, "I'll have to rely on the oft-visited brothel of Madam Hand and her five daughters."

Roaring with laughter, Jesse and Tom started a pillow fight, which ended only after an errant cushion knocked over a few of Tom's plants. When the mess was cleaned up, both young men sat on the floor, still chuckling and talking about the unfathomable female psyche. Finally, what Jesse had been expecting Tom to say, he said.

"Look, Jess, are you going to make a move on my sister?"

Taking a long time thinking of an answer, Jesse, when he spoke, was quiet and thoughtful. "Tom, I invited Grace to stay with me when I was really mad at Les, back when the scandal broke. I wanted nothing better than to…well, you can imagine. And to be honest, I thought she wanted it, too. But nothing's ever happened. We've become closer, as friends, in some ways, but that's all."

"Yeah, that's about what Gracie says. But if it changes, Jess…just be, you know, nice to her. I'd hate to have to kill you." Tom gave him a disingenuous smile.

"Oh? Well, you won't have to. Your father has first dibs on my ass if that happens."

Conversation drifted back and forth until noon when Grace and Maddie showed up asking if they wanted to do something. When the girls weren't looking, Tom made lascivious gestures at Jesse, who proceeded to burst into laughter. They decided on lunch together followed by a visit to nearby Gunston Hall, the eighteenth century home of patriot George Mason.

Jesse enjoyed the meal with his friends, but found Mason's house surprisingly small and unimpressive. He'd had the impression that all early Virginia planters were rich and owned huge houses like George Washington's Mt. Vernon, the next plantation up the Potomac River. Outside, the gardens were beautiful, he mentioned unnecessarily to Grace, even in the dead of winter, as was the view of the river. When she started shivering from the icy wind, Jesse did not hesitate to put an arm around her to provide some warmth. Grace stood still for a few seconds, and then, much to his surprise, moved away and returned to the visitor's center without a word. For the rest of the day her behavior towards him was as cold as the weather.

_A/N: Ellie Aarons' comment about a thumb up his butt, and Jesse's reply, are a direct quote from The Shawshank Redemption._


	11. Chapter 11: A New Year’s Parlor Game

**Bowing Out Gracefully  
****  
**Chapter 11  
A New Year's Parlor Game

_Disclaimer: The world of Terabithia belongs to Katherine Paterson and her publishers.  
I'm just playing around in it for a while. Sadly, no profit can be received from this story._

Grace's frosty behavior towards Jesse continued another day, right up until they boarded the train for Boston. Whatever had been bothering her over the past couple days vanished, however, as she sat, gazing at the blurry scenery whizzing by. Jesse liked traveling the sleek, new, high-speed Metroliners Amtrak had put in service recently. They were quiet, clean, comfortable and wickedly fast: up to a hundred-fifty miles per hour on some stretches. Grace had experience riding the rails, too, but mostly when she was much younger and her family was stationed in Europe. As the hours passed, the colors changed from brown and gray to gray and white, with some evergreens adding a splash of color here and there.

Jesse's mind, however, was on another train trip he'd taken years before with Leslie, from London to Nice. It irritated him that he could not shake off memories of their time together. It also irritated him that he wanted to. Confused and feeling a bit down, he leaned his chair back and tried to nap.

It was dinnertime, but dark and frigid outside, when Jesse and Grace made it back to their flat. The short, two-block walk from the subway chilled them, and their residence hardly felt warmer when they entered. The ever-frugal Mrs. Hill had turned down the thermostat to fifty. Since the water pipes were safely enclosed in her warmer unit below, there was no risk of them freezing.

Jesse immediately turned up the heat and heard the radiators groaning to life a minute later. Grace raced to the kitchen to put a couple cups of water into the microwave. Five minutes later, she brought out cocoa for two and sat next to Jesse on the couch while he checked his mail. She called home to let her father know they had arrived safely. Both still had their heavy coat and hat on.

While Grace looked at the small pile of mail Jesse had set aside for her, she noticed he was opening a letter from Karin. She started to get up but Jesse held her back, saying he was still too cold. She laughed and sat back down. As Jesse started to read the letter, Grace attacked her own: two short notes from friends, a half-dozen Christmas cards, and a letter from…

"_Shit!_ And I was having a good day," Grace griped, balling up the letter and throwing it across the room. "Ish," she explained, answering Jesse's questioning look. He gave her a rueful smile in return, holding up the letter from Karin.

"She wants to know _why_, Gracie," Jesse lamented. "What should I tell her? It wasn't going to work because she was a good friend, or because she made me feel good. I'm so pathetic. I can't believe I…" Jesse was stopped mid-sentence by Grace hitting him with a cushion. "What?"

"Stop feeling so sorry for yourself, or for Karin, for that matter. What's she want? To get back together?"

"No, not in so many words. She says she just doesn't understand."

"Great, Ish says the same thing. Maybe we should get those two together. No! Cancel that, I like Karin."

Jesse stood and removed his coat now that the room was warming up. Grace did likewise, handing it to him to hang up. When he returned, Jesse made to sit apart from Grace but she patted the spot he'd occupied a moment before. "Still too cold." Jesse shrugged and sat.

After an eternal and uncomfortable minute, Jesse asked Grace the question he'd been wondering about for months. "So…is this Ish guy a real loser, or what? It's hard to think he's so awful if you dated him for two years."

Grace rubbed her face and leaned forward, her elbows on her knees. "The first year was wonderful. He was the perfect gentleman," she laughed. "At least as much as a sophomore in high school can be. But between tenth and eleventh grade he changed. He became demanding and possessive. I mean, not stalker kind of possessive, just always wanted to be with me."

"And that's strange? Sounds like dating to me."

"I know, and it's also why it took so long for me to realize it wasn't good. I never had time to myself. I couldn't be me. Even when we swam – you knew we were on the same swim team, right? Ish was always there."

Jesse could hear the frustration in his friend's voice; feel her tensing up where their arms and legs touched. He ventured a personal question. "How was he demanding?"

Grace shot him a resigned look that said as much as the words that followed. "What do you think, Jess? He wanted to _do it_," then she added hastily, "and he got…moody when I refused, like it was my fault he wasn't being fulfilled. Typical male bullshit."

"Hey!"

"Not you, Jess. I can't see you ever being like that. You're too nice."

"_Ahhh!_" Jesse cried out, standing. Dramatically covering his heart, he fell to the floor. Below, Mrs. Hill yelled for quiet. "The curse of every guy, to be known to a girl as…_nice_."

Grace gave him a warm smile and Jesse could tell she appreciated the distraction from painful memories. She held out a hand to help him up and returned to the couch.

"Look, Gracie, he didn't, um, you know…hurt you, did he? I can borrow one of Toby's assault rifles and…" He didn't finish, Grace pushed him over, laughing at the absurdity of the statement.

"No, _Sir Galahad_, but thanks."

Rising, Grace gathered her things and started to her bedroom. Behind her, she heard Jesse stand. "Grace Jacobs," he said quietly. She stopped but didn't turn. "I'm glad you're here."

"Me, too, Jesse Aarons. Me, too. Goodnight."

Later, in her room, bundled against the cold and trying to keep herself from thinking about Jesse by reading a magazine, Grace gave up and called out. "Hey, Jess, still awake?"

"Yeah, sorta." His voice was muffled by the wall separating the rooms.

"When are you and Leslie going to get back together?"

Grace waited for a minute, then two. The only sound she heard was the click from Jesse's lamp being shut off.

* * *

"No, not unless I have a degree. The only thing they'll let me do is post flyers around advertising myself as an English lit or grammar tutor….I know, but I don't want to drive into Roanoke every day….I _know_! Look, I'm stopping by the middle school to see Mr. Hrdy, I'll be back in a couple hours. Yeah, I will. Bye."

Happy to finish the call to her mother about her latest failure finding a job, Leslie turned off her cell phone and ducked inside a partially enclosed bus stop next to Lark Creek High School. It provided scant relief from the bitter wind and spitting sleet, but it was better than nothing. Putting her gloves back on, Leslie leaned into the wind and continued on.

Over the past few days, since she had last seen Jesse, Leslie had been searching for something to take her mind off her ex-boyfriend. Nothing had worked. Without the diversions of travel and acting, there was little to do in Lark Creek. Even the farm was mostly inactive, except the hour or two a day milking and feeding the cows and gathering eggs. Leslie had even visited Mary Aarons to see if there was something – anything - she could do for her, but with Ellie, Toby and their child temporarily staying at the house, she explained kindly that she had all the help needed.

The growing sense of frustration pushed Leslie to look for a job in town, but her pride would not let her work for minimum wage – the only positions available. Her now former agent in Hollywood had promised to mention her name if some writing or editing gigs appeared, but after Leslie had dropped her acting career she thought it highly unlikely he would do anything. That was the nature of the business world.

Later that same evening, Leslie sat with her brother, Anton, and Brenda, talking about her future. She was disappointed to see that her sister-in-law still bore traces of her younger, snobbish self. A fact that made Anton's marriage to her something of a surprise. Upstairs, Janice – Jan - and Jimmy watched TV, their parents having broken down and purchased a television when the boy was first diagnosed with Leukemia. Bill and Judy were together in Baxley, a nearby town, along with Jack and Mary Aarons and a dozen other families in their farm co-op for the annual business meeting.

The conversation that night, unlike others, kept turning back to Brenda's oldest brother. It wasn't always overt, in fact, his name was seldom mentioned, but Leslie understood the vague references and side looks. Finally, in a fit of anger, she stormed off to her room and locked the door.

Sitting in bed, Leslie knew she had to resolve the situation with Jesse. It was obvious he was moving on with his life, while her pride and shame was destroying her own. In addition, it was rapidly destroying any chance of them being together again. She also knew she would have to make the first move.

Jumping off the bed, Leslie went to her laptop and opened her email application. She started a new message, addressed it to Jesse…and sat. Thirty minutes later, the only things she had put down (and not erased) were a few extraneous characters and the word "sorry." Disgusted she could find nothing else to say, she threw down a pencil she'd been chewing on and slammed her laptop shut.

* * *

New Year's Eve in Boston was bitterly cold, and spits of sleet stung their face as Jesse and Grace walked the two blocks to the edge of MassArt's campus for a party. The venue was a house rented by a group of eight guys Jesse knew from school and who had been inviting him over all year. Thinking it would be good for Grace to get more of a feel for college life, he'd asked her a few weeks earlier to go with him and she immediately accepted. Now she was not so certain.

"And you'll introduce me to everyone, right?"

"Yes, Grace."

"And you promise not to leave me with any creeps, right?"

Jesse rolled his eyes. "Yes, Grace."

"What should I do if a guy hits on me?"

"_WHAT?!_" Jesse stopped. "Grace, what did you do at high school dances if a guy hit on you?"

"Uh, I usually walked away. But…"

"Then walk away here, too. These guys are pretty civilized, really." He laughed offering her another alternative: "Or if you want a _real_ boring time, hang around with me."

Grace ignored this. "What about alcohol?"

"Gracie! You're a big girl, if you want to have a beer, have a beer. I don't think they'll be serving anything hard…_liquor_, Grace. Whiskey, rum those things. They're too expensive for us poor college kids."

Grace gave him a dubious smile as they turned the corner and found the party house with a line of guests coming out the door. On the porch, wearing only shorts and a school sweater, one of the residents waved to Jesse and whistled at Grace. She blushed. Then he fell over the railing into an evergreen, but popped right up and proclaimed himself unhurt.

The night started off well, Grace thought. The house was crammed and the music loud, but no one was being obnoxious – her primary concern. Jesse made a big show out of introducing her to the residents and it helped Grace feel comfortable. Even the raised eyebrows and surreptitious winks amused her. After introductions, he started pointing out others he knew.

"See that guy over there, picking his ass? We call him retread, for obvious reasons. The couple in matching jeans and oxford shirts, they're..._ahem_...well, Mike's from Texas and we call him Tex. Judy's always hanging on him so we call her, um, _Co-Tex_." Grace burst into laughter; Jesse continued: "The tall guy plays basketball and somehow got the name Nad...Get it?" Grace looked perplexed. "So when he's playing we can shout, _go Nad!_"

"Jesse! You're definitely hanging around too many guys."

"Probably...um, there's Karin...maybe we should smile and wave, we're all friends here." Grace didn't feel like it and turned herself and Jesse away so they wouldn't be seen. "Yeah, probably a better idea. Anyway, let's see. That's Sarge," he said, pointing to stocky and muscular woman. "Becca, the blonde over there is one of our regular models and a part-time student."

Grace appraised her. "Nude model?"

"Yeah, sometimes. But I've never seen...um, drawn her," he added hastily.

"What a shame," Grace commented, though Jesse couldn't quite make out how she meant it.

Wandering around, they came across a keg of beer. The line was short and Jesse maneuvered them into it. When their turn came, he handed Grace two clear plastic cups. "Try some?"

"Why not."

He filled Grace's glass half full and his all the way. Moving about some more they arrived in a room Jesse called _the gallery_. Grace was stunned. The walls of the former formal dining room were covered, floor to ceiling, with every type of painting, drawing, sketch, watercolor (and a few pieces of sculpture hanging precariously or perched on rickety stands).

"This is where the guys put all their rejects."

"_Rejects?_ You have to be joking, Jess; some of these are great."

"Maybe. The guys will be happy to know you like it."

Grace spent the next half hour looking at each work of art, and Jesse stood back and watched her, glad she was more comfortable. He also noticed she hadn't had any discernable amount of beer. As eleven o'clock approached, Jesse said he was going to see some people, leaving Grace to continue admiring the wide range of styles. Shortly after Jesse left, she felt the presence of another person in the room. When she saw who it was she nearly walked out.

"Ms. Jacobs, is it?" Clayton Branch asked, looking aloofly over her head at a poor imitation Picasso. He was overdressed for a casual party in coat and tie. "Don't you hate crap art?"

"It's not all bad. Don't you see anything you like?"

Branch turned to survey the entire room. It took a couple minutes. "Maybe. Are you another starving Rembrandt wannabe, Ms. Jacobs?"

"No, I'm working to earn..."

"Oh yes, you're modeling..." Branch interrupted, not that Grace disliked being compared to a model. "I have that girl's watercolor of you hanging in my den. She has promise."

Not caring much for his haughty tone, Grace tried to ignore the man, but he persisted.

"A wager, Ms. Jacobs? Can I interest you in a wager? It will cost you nothing but a few minutes of your time." Just as he had on the street weeks earlier, Branch pulled out a wallet and counted out some bills, setting them on a pedestal with a truly bad copy of...something. Grace couldn't see them all, but at least two of the bills were hundreds.

"You like doing that, don't you?"

"Why not? Daddy's rich and it's fun. At least the money goes to the students who need it."

"I'm not a student," she pointed out, again.

"Yes, but your clothing say you're in need of some extra cash."

Grace shook her head, clearly disgusted. "Okay, then, what's the game this time?"

"Pick out my favorite piece in this room and the money's yours."

For the first time, Grace noticed that there were more than a few people looking in the two doorways to the room. She had the feeling this was not an uncommon occurrence with Branch. Yet, money was money, and she had an excellent hand to play. Turing to the wall behind her, Grace touched a painting of two kittens playing. When she turned around, Clayton Branch was flabbergasted.

"_How?_" he managed to gasp. Behind them, the audience murmured.

"Pretty good for a _female_, isn't it?"

He asked again, only slightly less stunned. "How'd you know?"

Grace picked up the money: Three hundred fifty dollars! "You made it easy. This wall was the only one you spent any amount of time looking over; I know you like watercolors more than oils and pencils; there are only five watercolors, and I know you like cats."

"How the hell do you…?" Branch stopped mid-sentence. He was wearing a tie with a cat on it. "I guess I made that one too easy." With a determined look on his face he took out his wallet again and removed all the remaining bills – it made a tempting pile of loot. "It's yours if you can point out the three works in this room that I contributed."

Grace laughed - the man was clearly flustered. "Don't you worry, carrying all that cash around with you?"

"No."

Shrugging, Grace looked around the room again, taking her time. After ten minutes, Branch laughed and asked her if she was giving up. Instead of replying verbally, Grace removed two watercolors from the wall and handed them over. Branch's face turned red in anger and frustration, but he said, "Two doesn't do it. What's the third?"

"That piece of _shit_ on the pedestal. I would hand it to you but it looks like it's about to fall apart."

Clayton Branch threw down the two paintings he held, turned, and walked out of the room. A moment later, the crowd of spectators began to cheer and clap. Grace blushed, made a dramatic little bow, and took her prize, sad to see it was all smaller bills. Then she left the room and went to find Jesse.

"I hear you showed-up Branch," Jesse said as Grace approached him a bit later. "Not bad; most people are intimidated by him."

"Ha! Karin was right, he's a chauvinistic jerk."

"Pig."

"Huh?"

"Karin said he was a chauvinistic pig."

Grace laughed, conceding the point.

"How'd you do it?"

Grace explained the first bet and that it was pretty simple to identify his favorite. Jesse laughed at the idea the macho fellow was such a cat lover. Then he asked about the second bet.

"Jesse, even you would have figured that one out!" she teased, patting his arm. "His name is Clayton Branch." Jesse just stared at her dumbly. "Clayton Branch, Jess…C.B. He initialed all his stuff CB."

In a moment, Jesse laughed so loudly everyone around him turned to see what the joke was about. "Not so smart, is he?"

Grace smiled. "No, and it cost him more than five hundred dollars! I think we should celebrate."

Jesse smiled as a group of partiers descended upon Grace, having heard about Branch, asking of her secret. She was led off and he dropped the smile. His friend had sounded just like Karin the first time they had…

_No, that is_not_ going to happen._

* * *

As midnight approached, Grace noticed people pairing up to give the closest partygoers a New Year kiss. A guy she hadn't met was passing out Champagne in cheap plastic stem-glasses. Grace took the one he offered and looked for Jesse. Not finding him, she backed into a corner to have the fewest possible neighbors. When the countdown began, she nearly punched a guy who was obviously trying to get close to her.

"Fifteen… Fourteen…" the crowd shouted.

"Ouch! Gracie, what the hell are you doing?" Jesse shouted over the three-dozen or so partiers nearby. She had turned away and "accidentally" elbowed the unrecognized person approaching: Jesse.

"Ten… Nine…"

"Ohmygod, sorry, Jess."

"Eight… Seven…"

"'S okay. It wasn't intentional…was it?" he asked, smiling.

"Six… Five… Four…"

"No, of course not. Here, come here," she instructed, pulling on Jesse's arm and using him as a shield of sorts.

"Three… Two… "

Standing next to his friend, her arm looped in with his own, Jesse felt a warmth and comfort long missing from his life. He closed his eyes and sighed as the last number was shouted.

"_ONE… HAPPY NEW YEAR…!_"

All around them, partiers were clasping each other on the back, kissing their friends, giving 'manly' hugs, sloshing beer on the floor, and jostling one another. Grace and Jesse stood still, simply smiling and nodding at those who approached, neither seeming to want to release the other. Across the room, Jesse saw something that startled and upset him more than he thought it should: Karin Bennett was kissing a person he knew from one of his classes. Then she disappeared back into the hoard of guests.

"Jess?" It was Grace. "Was that Karin over there?"

"Um, yeah."

"You okay?"

He looked down and gave a little smile. "Yeah, I guess. Look, you want to go?"

Grace didn't even have to answer. Jesse could see she was not comfortable at a place where she didn't know anyone. She downed the Champagne in one long swig, eyes bulging as to make Jesse laugh, set the cup on a table and followed him out.

The walk home was colder and windier than earlier that evening, and the quick shot of wine made Grace's head spin a little. Jesse, who had also had a couple beers, seemed uncommonly giddy as she told him stories of the people she'd met. By the time they were back to the flat, both were chilled to the bone and sat on the couch covered with a large comforter Grace had received for Christmas.

"God, it's cold here. Why didn't you tell me that when I said I wanted to live in Boston?" Grace asked, rubbing her hands together and then on her legs to warm herself. Jesse, more used to the cold, told her to quit complaining. With that, Grace covered her head, giggling.

"I'm tired, Jess," Grace suddenly proclaimed, jumping up and shedding her winter outer garments. "Off to bed I go."

Amused that the small amount of alcohol could make her so tipsy, Jesse called after her, "Don't forget to pee and brush."

Grace disappeared into her room, exiting again after a minute of loud giggles. She wore heavy flannel pajamas and headed to the bathroom. Jesse noticed her bottoms were on backwards, the drawstrings flapping like twin tails behind her. While his flatmate used the loo, Jesse picked up their coats and headed to bed himself, but met Grace in the narrow hallway. She was still giggling and blocking the way. Finally, he backed against the wall and let her pass. Five minutes later, he could still hear her giggles as she talked to herself in her room. Concerned, Jesse knocked on her door.

"Come in!"

"You okay, Gracie?" She obviously was not.

"I'm _FINE!_ _Hehehe_. Jesse, come sit here." She patted the edge of her bed. He sat. "I never got to give anyone a kiss for Yew Near." Pouting, she closed her eyes and seemed to fade in and out of consciousness.

_Uh-oh, someone slipped her something_ he realized. "Grace, you go to sleep, okay? I'll...we'll figure it out in the morning." _That should be interesting!_

"Prooooom-_isssse_?"

"Yeah. Goodnight."

Before he'd left the room, Grace started snoring.


	12. Chapter 12: Whenever I Want You

**Bowing Out Gracefully**

Chapter 12  
Whenever I want you…

_Disclaimer: The world of Terabithia belongs to Katherine Paterson and her publishers,  
__I'm just playing around in it for a while. Sadly, no profit can be received from this story._

As soon as she awoke, Grace knew something was wrong. She had never really been drunk, and one glass of Champagne shouldn't have made her feel so rotten. Stumbling into the bathroom, she looked at the mirror and saw bloodshot eyes, and her fair complexion even more pale than usual. Here ears rung and her skull felt like it might be fractured. She groaned and sat on the toilet to relieve herself.

It was only then that she realized the shower was running.

"Jesse!" she yelped, jumping up and fixing her clothing. Inside the shower, Jesse, who thought he'd heard something while rinsing off a head full of shampoo, pulled aside the curtain and found a disheveled blonde mop of hair in his face.

"Grace, what are you doing in here?" he asked, calmer than he felt.

Apologizing, Grace yelped again, ran out, and went back to bed. She didn't come out until noon. By that time, Jesse was sketching on the sofa. He looked up to see how she was. "How you feeling? I think someone drugged that Champagne."

"Oh, Jess!" Grace sat and started to cry. "Who?"

"Don't worry, I took care of it." He said it in such a matter-of-fact way that Grace almost missed his tone.

"Jess," _sniff, sniff,_ "what did you do?"

"Don't worry about it; he won't bother you any more."

Grace said nothing for a long time, composed herself and retrieved some aspirin for her head. Eventually she did ask the burning question. "Jesse, should we expect a visit from the police?"

He gave her a very somber frown and worried nod before bursting into laughter. "No, Gracie. I didn't do anything illegal. At least I don't think I did." Then he returned to his drawing.

Silent again, Grace eventually moved next to Jesse and watched him sketch. He had just started but it was easy to see the first shapes forming on the paper. In another quarter hour, Grace began to laugh. "Is that what I looked like this morning?"

"Yep, beautiful, even when you're a mess."

Grace started at the comment. Jesse had never called her beautiful and it made her feel good, or at least a little better. Then she thought of something else. "Jess, last night, when I was drugged...what happened?"

Casually, Jesse set the pad and pencils down and turned to his friend. "What's the last thing you remember?"

"Walking home and freezing my ass off."

"Ah."

"What? What does '_ah_' mean?"

"You don't remember us sitting on the couch?"

"I...I sort of remember trying to get warm. Then I was in the bathroom with you."

"Uh huh. Well, not much important happened in between, so don't worry."

"_Jesse Aarons!_ What did I do?"

"Nothing, Gracie...much." He was enjoying this immensely.

"Then what did _you_ do?"

"Me? Nothing...at least nothing I wasn't asked to do. Hey! Don't look like that. I didn't know you were drugged up."

Nearly in tears again, Grace's lip quivered as she repeated her question. "Tell me what happened, Jess."

"You really want to know? Okay, okay: Nothing at all. I saw you'd been slipped something and I sent you to bed."

"Wait!"

"What?"

"You told me...you told me to pee and brush, didn't you?"

"Yes. See you can remember more."

"Bits and pieces. Did I?"

"Pee and brush? I guess. Then you went to bed."

Patting his arm, Grace then rose and went to dress. "Jess, you're a perfect gentleman. Thanks."

* * *

There was no doubt in Jesse's mind that he was dreaming; long ago, he had come to understand and appreciate the unique reality of his subconscious mind. Its crazy imagery and confusing symbols no longer brought him unease or terror. And this particular dream had been evolving since Christmas.

As always, it was the last Saturday of February, Jesse was folding his laundry in the living room while Grace sat reading on the couch. The morning was unseasonably warm, and she was wearing only a tank top and shorts, a state of dress Jesse enjoyed, but was careful not to glance at too often or for more than a few seconds.

They started chatting and Jesse immediately realized it would not be one of their typical conversations. In a way, he had been expecting it since Christmas and the more than friendly kiss she had given him. True to form, Grace didn't beat around the bush.

"So, Jesse Aarons, I'd like to get a straight answer from you about something," she started, setting her book down and watching him fold clothes. "Are you and Leslie really finished? Forever-like?"

Jesse shrugged. "I wish I knew, Gracie. I haven't heard anything from her."

"Would you ever consider dating me?"

A bit dumbfounded, Jesse stuttered. "Um, w-what? You?" He fiddled with his laundry for a few seconds. "I mean, sure. You're great and all that. I just…" he trailed off. In reality, he had thought about it almost daily since she had moved in, but he also knew – he had always known - how important it was to keep a distance between them. Grace Jacobs had always aroused something passionate in him and he knew anything they began would only end up as it had with him and Karin Bennett. Probably worse. He tried to change the subject. "It's not smart, Gracie. It didn't work last time."

"Jess, that was what, six years ago? We were thirteen and you were actively dating Les. Well, never mind. I was just curious."

Nodding, Jesse went back to folding. Just when he thought he would escape, Grace spoke up again. "Do you want to make out?"

He scowled. "You're kidding?" he asked hopefully after a couple seconds of stunned silence. Grace shrugged and went back to her book. Jesse carried the clothes to his room and put them away. A little afraid to go back out to the living room, he sat on his bed and thought, but the only thing that came to mind was having sex with Grace and all the complications it would bring.

"Jess?" Grace said from his bedroom doorway causing him to nearly fall out off the edge of the bed.

"Huh?"

"Let's," she suggested again, smiling.

"Come on, Grace…. Are you serious?"

Grace walked in and sat next to Jesse. Although a little awkward, she turned and put her arms around his neck. "Yeah. Want to?" She moved in and rubbed her cheek against his.

"Um, okay," he finally said.

_I'm free, unattached. Grace is beautiful and she wants to…do…something. Why shouldn't I?_

And he kissed her, softly, gently, affectionately. Grace responded in kind, but it didn't take long for things to progress. What Jesse was most concerned about, however, was not the two of them enjoying some physical pleasure together, but the long-term consequences. Was this an overture to a deep, lasting relationship, or was this only two horny teens who wanted to fuck?

"Grace…Gracie, hang on…" Jesse stopped them.

"Hmm?"

"What are we doing? I mean, is this just a one-time thing?"

Leaning back, Grace realized Jesse had started to slip his hand up her shirt leaving part of her breast exposed. She fixed that. "I don't know, Jess. You've been sending me signals for about two months that you wanted to get into bed with me, so I thought…"

"_What?_ What have I done to encourage that?"

Grace listed off about ten items. As she did, Jesse realized he _had_ been undressing her with his eyes, and imaging other things he thought had gone unnoticed.

_Apparently not__!_

"I – I'm sorry, Gracie. Really. I mean, you are beautiful and I'd be crazy to think it wouldn't be fun to, um, screw around."

"Then let's do it," she said, very matter-of-factly. Glancing down, Grace smiled seeing that Jesse's interest was still _up_, but that he needed more logical reasons for continuing. "I want it, too, Jess. We're both adults, and to be honest, I'm in the mood for…_doing it_."

Jesse closed his eyes to think and felt himself being pulled away…

Then he felt someone shaking him. "What? Gracie, what's happening?"

"You were talking in your sleep, Jess, and then you started hitting things."

Finally focusing, Jesse looked at his clock and saw it was just past two in the morning. _That dream!_ It was a good one, however, he realized, as he noticed his painfully stiff erection. Fortunately, the covers hid that.

Grace sat down on the edge of the bed, her hair its usual nighttime mess. "You sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, just a - a dumb dream. Sorry to wake you."

She gave him an _It's not a problem_ sort of smile and returned to her room. Five minutes later, hearing no movement from the other bedroom, Jesse began to masturbate. The images and residual excitement that his dream evoked brought forth a rapid and intense orgasm. He was cleaned up a couple minutes later when he fell asleep wondering what it would _really_ be like with Grace Jacobs.

* * *

The remainder of the winter passed quickly for Jesse and Grace, each busy with school or work, both waiting for spring to turn up. It finally arrived in late March, ushering in another year of global warming with unseasonably pleasant days and comfortably cool nights.

Then April started poorly for Jesse when mid-term exams did not go as well for him as he had hoped. Grace came home late one evening in early April to find him sprawled on the couch finishing – if she could judge by the number of bottles on the floor – his fourth beer. He gave her a salute by tipping the mouth of the bottle to his forehead and sloshing some of the brew on his face. Grace threw him a towel and disappeared into the kitchen for a bite to eat. When she returned, she carried a plate with a sandwich - and two beers.

"You don't drink," Jesse noted morosely.

"I may start. I got another letter from Ish; he wants to come up and visit."

Jesse cursed and finished the last of #4. Grace handed him another bottle and was thanked with a belch. "Wha'd'r'you gunna do?"

"Tell him no."

"Esss-callent plan, _Gracer_"

"'_Gracer_'? Cute, Jess, real cute," she laughed, and then dove into her dinner. When finished, she noted, "You know, beer isn't too bad with food."

"Yeah, it's a cure-all. But it's gotta be cold."

The two sat chatting for a long time and Grace helped herself to a couple more beers. By eight o'clock, she was feeling no pain. Jesse, who hadn't sobered up any himself, thought this was extraordinarily funny and spent a good bit of time laughing at her. Yet even in his inebriated state, he made sure they kept a careful distance, physically, as much as possible. That plan, however, was forgotten when they decided to watch an old Seinfeld episode and had to sit next to each other. Half the episode was missed as they pushed each other from one side of the sofa to the other, until, that is, both started feeling queasy.

"You know," Jesse belched, "I can't remember what that episode was about. Was it any good…Gracer?"

She began to reply with a belch of her own; it set them giggling again. "It had something to do with a contest that Kramer lost. I can't remember." They laughed more, telling tall stories of things that had happened to them in the years they had lost contact. Both carefully avoided talking about certain people. As midnight neared, Grace had slumped over with her head on Jesse's shoulder. Conversation became less frequent but more thoughtful as the two friends sobered and opened up about things that troubled them.

Each had their own set of fears and worries. For Grace, it was completing an already delayed college education, and her ex-boyfriend. For Jesse, though he refused to admit it, his primary worry was the fizzled relationships with Leslie and Karin. He lumped the two under the nebulous heading of _stupid choices_, but Grace knew what was going through his mind and challenged him.

"Jess, why do you torture yourself over Karin? Or Les, for that matter?"

"Because I hurt them."

"Karin, maybe, but Les is the one who cut you off."

"Thanks," he said grumpily.

"Karin'll get over it; probably already has. As for Leslie Burke, I don't understand what she did and you refuse to talk to her about it. I mean, really, Jess, if you're going to bust your balls over her at least find out why."

Sitting up, Jesse gave his friend a most _un_friendly look. "What do you care, Gracie? Yeah, I fucked up with Karin and feel guilty, but with Les…I don't know. She hurt me before, I mean, I know it was because of the drugs, but it still hurt. I'd spent most of high school thinking we'd always be together…but…" Jesse sobbed. Grace felt terrible for pushing him. She also knew it had taken her eight months, and a half-dozen beers, to get him to talk about it. He continued. "Seeing her on TV with that guy – hearing the stories – it killed me, Grace."

"But Jess, you've also read all the stories about how she has a drinking or sleeping pill problem…or had one. And it looks like it's something she be struggling with for a long time. Maybe it was because of that."

"She's had a year and a half to contact me, Grace. If she really wanted to, she would have by now." Looking to be on the verge of tears again, Jesse stood and staggered a couple steps before falling back down to the couch.

"Then why are you waiting for her?"

"I'm not _waiting_ for her."

"You're not moving on, it's the same thing."

"Just drop it, Grace. I don't want to talk about it any more. I'm going to bed."

Rising a second time, Jesse successfully navigated his way to the bathroom and then to bed. Grace was close behind as it was now almost one in the morning. Laying in her room, she was troubled by the conversation and why her friend was so dead-set against trying to get back together with the girl he so obviously still loved. As she lay still, she heard Jesse in the other room. He was crying. Grace jumped out of bed and went to his room, knocking before entering.

"Go away…Grace," Jesse said between sobs.

She ignored this, entered, and sat at the edge of his bed handing him a tissue. "Nope. Move over."

"What?"

"Move over, Aarons."

The twin bed was too small for two people, but Jesse did as he was instructed. Grace lay down behind him, wrapping him in her arms. Jesse soon calmed down and fell asleep. She slipped from his bed shortly thereafter and went back to her room knowing she'd have a mighty headache in the morning. The next morning, Jesse and Grace said nothing about that night's exchange, and it did not seem to change their attitude or behavior towards each other.


	13. Chapter 13: Cape Cod

**Bowing Out Gracefully**Chapter 13  
Cape Cod  
or  
Jesse Learns That Bill Shakespeare Wasn't Always Correct

_Disclaimer: The world of Terabithia belongs to Katherine Paterson and her publishers.  
I'm just playing around in it for a while. Sadly, no profit can be received from this story._

_Note: There __are a couple rather intense and descriptive scenes of sexual interaction in this chapter. Read at your own peril._

Confusion reigned. Between January and April, Jesse noticed a number of distinct changes in his flatmate, primarily a combination of mysterious behavior in general and affectionate action towards him in particular. In his estimation, Grace was making a play for him. This was not a surprising development either, since Christmas he had been more willing to entertain the idea of dating his flatmate. She was smart, pretty, affectionate, and most importantly, a friend. She seemed, he reflected, to be bridging a gap between what Karin and Leslie had been for him.

_Is she__ the best of both?_ he pondered, more and more frequently.

Yet Jesse remained restless with himself. The unfinished business that was Leslie Burke drove him frantic at times and he hoped Grace did not notice his irrational mood swings when images and memories of his childhood love resurfaced. He especially hoped she didn't notice that these fits occurred most frequently when he found his mind wandering away from her and focusing on another attractive blonde-haired person.

A grating voice within his conscience persisted, however, warning him not to let his interest in Grace get out of hand.

By March, Grace's non-verbal signs of interest were beginning to engage Jesse. Normally modest in attire, Grace was starting to wear clothing (or not wear clothing) around the flat that drove him to distraction. Seeing her in a worn t-shirt or tank top, without a bra, was common; this nighttime attire sent Jesse to find relief and release in the shower more frequently. Passing and unfocused glimpses of her nude body through a crack in her bedroom door excited him more than he thought they could. And her proclivity to press herself against him or give him quick hugs seemed to increase each week. The first quarter of the year was rapidly degenerating into a confusing mess of distracting erotica.

Yet Jesse said nothing to Grace about any of this. He was torn between the pleasant stimulation and aggravating memories she evoked. When he _was_ able to think logically about what was happening, Jesse convinced himself – and not without cause – that Grace's actions were the normal development in a relationship where two people lived so closely together.

The portion of her actions, inadvertent though they might be, that irritated the most refreshed memories of Leslie. They flirted the same way, though Grace was a little more aggressive, Jesse judged - that was her personality. Leslie had been pretty much uninhibited, sexually, when they had become active in that realm. Grace seemed to be advertising her wishes and yearnings, but with more intricacy and complexity. Understanding Leslie had been and easy slide down a slippery slope. Grace had demonstrated that a relationship with her would be the proverbial round peg in a square hole: it would require effort and force to make it work.

* * *

As Jesse's twentieth birthday approached, Grace told him she was planning something special and he should leave the day free. He groused half-heartedly but accepted, secretly pleased that he would have someone with whom he could spend the day.

Grace disappeared early one Saturday morning in mid-April, but soon returned driving a beat-up old VW she had apparently borrowed. She loaded a few things in the back, including a backpack of Jesse's things she had collected without his knowledge. Curious, Jesse let Grace lead him out to the car. When he sat and buckled in, she handed him a bottle of suntan lotion and told him to "Grease up." They had not traveled far before the destination was obvious: Cape Cod. Grace confirmed this saying he needed a day away from the flat and his schoolwork. She was correct, too. Jesse was running himself ragged getting his grades back up and he knew he needed some time off.

Sitting back, he watched the city pass to the north and the air clear as they headed out onto the narrow strip of land that jutted into the Atlantic Ocean. With the agreeable April morning around them, Grace cranked open the sunroof and took off the baseball cap she had been wearing. Her hair, formerly bound by the hat, blew into a mass of pale yellow around her head. Jesse found himself watching that more than the exterior scenery.

Grace pulled into an empty lot near noon, bay side, and they got out. There was no one around, though the lot held a few other cars. The sounds of children playing could be heard in the distance behind them as they picked-up their things and headed towards the beach.

"I hope you don't mind the bay side, Jess. The water's warmer here."

He didn't, saying it was probably too cold for swimming, anyway.

Grace conceded the point, spread out some towels, and then removed her shirt to reveal the upper half of a two-piece suit. Jesse had to willfully pull his eyes away and look out to the bay, babbling something about the number of sailboats.

When settled, Grace produced a lunch she had put together that morning and they ate in silence. Jesse was enjoying the scenery, particularly that of the female next to him, all the while trying not to stare. Grace, fully aware of her friend's attention, didn't make him feel guilty by calling him on it. When they finished eating, both noticed more people had wandered on to the beach, but no one was nearby, and their privacy remained intact.

While munching on some apple slices, Grace pulled out one of Jesse's old sketching pads and a case of his pencils from the backpack she had brought. When he saw them he said, "I thought I didn't have to work today."

"You don't. I just brought it in case you got bored. Anyway, that's one of your old pads, isn't it?" Jesse looked and saw it was indeed from many years before. "I was hoping you'd show me some of your earlier stuff." Surprised, but delighted by her interest, Jesse lay on his stomach next to his flatmate and began to page through the old drawings. They were from eighth and ninth grade, and he explained what each one was and its inspiration. Many remained unfinished, some nothing more than outlines of unfinished works. Some pages had been torn out, folded, or crumpled and then flattened.

"You don't throw anything away, do you?"

"No. One of my early teachers told me to keep everything." He held up a truly bad sketch of a woodpecker. "He was right. This could be a masterpiece some day."

Both dissolved into laughter and Jesse felt Grace's warm hand on the bare skin of his back. It stayed there.

About half way through the drawings, Jesse stood, stretched, and walked back to the car to retrieve the suntan lotion. When he returned, Grace was paging through the last few drawings. He saw her stop and open one that was folded. She squinted for a moment and then hurriedly closed it. Her face was red.

"What was that? Come across one of my nudes?" Grace didn't answer. "Actually, I wasn't doing nudes back then. I probably thought it was a sin. Let me see." He had reached the towels they'd been laying on and held out his hand. Grace wordlessly handed him the paper and he noticed she was blushing even more. "Come on, Gracie, is it that bad?"

She squeaked out an unintelligible sound.

Jesse opened the drawing, turned it over, thought for a moment, and shrugged. "What's wrong? It's a breast," he chuckled. "You've seen them before, I imagine. It probably got stuck in there from last year when we started figures."

Grace grabbed the drawing back and sat up; Jesse sat down next to her. "Jess, what's that?" she asked, pointing to a Celtic cross the model was wearing around her neck.

"So?"

Grace narrowed her eyes, now looking more angry than embarrassed. "Jesse Aarons, that's _my_ cross and _my_ chest. You even added the mole I have, uh, down there."

"Huh?" Jesse uttered in confusion, trying to recall what his friend was alleging. Then he remembered. "_Oh, shit, you're right!_"

"I'm quite sure I've never posed for you, but you certainly have the anatomy correct, for when I was about _twelve_." The accusing tone stung as Jesse struggled to recall the circumstances.

"Um, you were fourteen, I think," he began to explain, "right after I started high school. You used to come over to the track field after school and do your homework while Tom and I practiced. Remember?" Jesse closed his eyes, thinking. "We were talking and you leaned over to get something out of your backpack and, um…I mean, I wasn't _trying_ to see anything."

Grace's expression softened and showed she believed the story, at least in part. "Okay, so why keep this? Oh, that's right, you never throw anything away."

"Sorry," Jesse said contritely. "I'll get rid of it, if you want."

"Don't bother, it _is_ a good likeness. At least it was five or six years ago. Sorry I over-reacted."

"Um, thanks, no problem. You _have_ changed since…" Jesse started, and then caught himself, mortified by what he was saying. Grace laughed it off and said not to worry.

Both lay down again to read, but Grace got right back up and started putting on more suntan lotion, first on Jesse's back and then he on hers. When she applied some on her chest, Jesse tried not to look. Seeing her fingers slipping under the fabric covering her breasts was too tempting, however, and a flash of fantasy left him blushing and flipping onto his stomach. It took almost a quarter hour of reading for him to deflate.

"You enjoying your day?" Grace asked a bit later.

"Yeah, thanks. I haven't been this relaxed in a long time." Rolling onto his side to talk, Jesse was both dismayed and delighted to see that Grace's top had slipped down across her breast an inch or so. It would expose her if it moved any further. While he looked, Grace noticed and thought about what to do.

Her problem was not so much making a move on Jesse, or accepting one he might make on her, but how to control whatever they started. She had gone to Boston open to the idea that she and Jesse might become a couple, but only if she was 100% certain that Leslie was out of the picture. After eight months, and particularly the past two, it was obvious she was not. Therefore, Jesse Aarons was not available. And she hated the situation. Since Christmas, she'd tried to nudge Jesse one way or another, but true to form, he never responded decisively.

If she did something now, when he was obviously aroused and susceptible, would it bring forth only a burst of superficial physical passion? She wondered…

_Pleasurable, yes, but probably not smart._ _If Jesse is going to finally set Leslie aside, it has to be on his terms - and at his pace…snail-like though that may be_.

Grace had thought this through many times, and suspected Jesse had, too, so she started to pull back before her breast flopped out completely. But just then, Jesse spoke.

"Grace?" He had leaned in closer and she felt his breath on her cheek. "Thanks again. Do I get a - a birthday kiss?"

It took every ounce of strength for Grace not to laugh in his face.

_A birthday kiss? Where'd he get _that_ line?_

She wasn't even certain he was serious. Turning her head, Grace saw Jesse lean forward and their lips touched.

_Oh my…_

It lasted longer than the Christmas kiss, a lot longer. Grace was so stunned that her initial reaction to Jesse pressing in harder was delayed. He started to pull back, uttering an apology.

"No, Jess," she whispered, putting a hand around his neck and carefully drawing them back together.

This time they both let it happen. The kiss soon deepened, and Grace felt Jesse's tongue touch her lips. It was the perfect request, neither too bold nor too hesitant. She responded and felt the heretofore-unknown closeness she had once begged God for open up between them.

It was gentle yet passionate.

It was wholly Jesse Aarons.

The kissing lasted for ten minutes or so. Their hands generally remained away from more intimate spots, even though they both desired more. But Grace stopped and held Jesse back, catching her breath. There was something she had to do, for both of them. While gathering her thoughts she noticed Jesse's erection against her leg. But she could not continue, not yet at least. Taking his hands in hers, she said, "Jess, don't misunderstand this question, but are you sure you want this?"

The word _yes_ was plainly formed on his lips, but he held it there, unspoken for a few seconds, before he actually said it. Being as perceptive as her father was, however, Grace understood the hesitation. "_No_, Jess."

"No?"

Finally frustrated beyond endurance, Grace pushed Jesse away, sat up, and nearly shouted: "No. _Jess, I'm not interested in a courtesy fuck or a few months of screwing around…_" Shocked, he started to retort but Grace cut him off. "You know - you_ KNOW_ how I feel about us…about us being together - but not unless you're committed. You still love Leslie, don't you?"

Confused and troubled, for Jesse had hoped his actions would resolve his mixed up feelings, he bowed his head and spoke. His words came out more like a plea. "_I. Don't. Know._ I'm trying to be honest about this, Grace. The last thing I want is for me to hurt you like I hurt Karin."

Sighing, Grace felt herself collapse, emotionally and physically. She closed her eyes, lay back onto the towel and covered her face determined not to cry. Like Leslie, she was seldom overly sentimental, but it was all too much and her efforts to remain composed failed. For a few minutes, she had had hope that her dreams would come true; that Jesse Aarons and she would be together; that the past eight months had been a precursor to a lifetime together. She knew now it was gone forever.

Through the murk of her emotions, Grace sensed Jesse gathering their things. As usual, he said nothing until he helped her up and folded the last towel. They walked silently to the car where Jesse finally spoke. "Can you drive?" he asked, pointing to her red eyes.

"I'm fine," she snapped. "Let's go home."

* * *

The long drive back to the house gave both an opportunity to regain their composure, and by the time they arrived, a calmness had settled-in and they were speaking again, even laughing lightly at a bad joke Grace had heard at the lab. When all the baggage was back inside, Grace disappeared for a half hour to return the car. She found Jesse nursing a beer upon returning.

"Got one for me…or four?" she asked.

Jesse smiled and grabbed three more from the fridge. He handed two to Grace saying she had some catching up to do, then sat across from her. He looked down for a minute gathering his thoughts. They were sparse. "Gracie, I'm sorry. I was kinda stupid."

She held up her hand as if to stop him, chugged most of the beer, and then said, "Don't, Jess. And stop being sorry for everything." She finished the first beer and opened the second.

He nodded after a few seconds and then joked, "Sorry I won't get to fulfill your fantasy."

Grace choked on a mouthful of beer and then smiled warmly. "Yeah, well, you can't always get what you want, can you? We did get some great kissing in, and that _was_ one of them."

"Really?" Jesse blurted out in genuine surprise. "I'd've thought your fantasies a little more, um, sultry."

Smiling deviously, Grace admitted, "Some of them are." Then added teasingly, "And for your information, Mr. Aarons, not all of them are about you."

Having started towards the kitchen for two more beers, Jesse stopped, turned, and said in his best Cary Grant imitation, "I'm crushed, Gracie, _simply_ crushed." Although he knew the alcohol had much to do with it, Jesse was happy they were back to their old ways again. When he returned, he handed Grace the beer and sat down. They watched each other for a minute while sipping the drinks before Jesse spoke again. "Grace, what happened between you and Ish? It wasn't because you were holding out for me, was it?"

Again, she smiled warmly. "No, Jess, he just…it got to the point where he tried to push me to have sex with him too many times…and I got sick of it."

Now it was Jesse's turn to choke. "Oh, you mean you two, um, never…did it?"

"Not that it's any of your business, _Aarons_, but no." Her voice was hard, but her eyes twinkled. She continued: "Almost everything _but_…." Jesse nodded, understanding. Grace finished beer number three before continuing. She was starting to slur her words, having rapidly consumed all three beverages with no food in her stomach. "But you still have one-up on old Ish: he never fulfilled any of my fantasies."

Jesse thought carefully before speaking; he was curious, however, and Grace appeared more than willing to talk. "So, um, what are your other fantasies?"

She set her drink down and began ticking them off, one-by-one, on her fingers. "Kiss Jesse Aarons, sex under the stars – it didn't have to be you." She giggled. "Skinny-dipping, and…uh, I'm not quite drunk enough to say the others. At least not yet. Get me another?" she asked, pointing to the empty can.

"Sure?"

"Definitely. What about you?" Grace asked when Jesse returned. "Or did Leslie fulfill all your fantasies already?" Jesse wasn't sure, but he thought he detected a bit of bitterness in Grace's question; like her, however, he was becoming too inebriated to care.

"You promise not to laugh?"

"Scou's honor." She clumsily crossed her arms over her chest, spilling beer on her t-shirt and revealing the swimsuit top below – and again slurring her words.

"Okay, I wanted to have sex, um, like you said, under the stars."

"Oww. Get it yet?"

"Uh-huh, the one time Les and me…" He trailed off.

"Hmm…what else?"

"Promise you won't…"

"I won't laugh lover-boy. I jus' hope it's juicy." She giggled and hiccupped.

"Yeah…. Um, I always wanted to watch a girl, um, you know," he pointed to Grace's crotch, "'do' herself."

Grace blinked. "Mabster… uh, Babster…? _Oh_, you know."

"Yeah. Karin liked doing that." A fleeting coherent thought ran through Jesse's mind that his ex-girlfriend might not appreciate him revealing that particular peccadillo about her to anyone. He didn't care, however.

"Wow, you're ahead of me in the fantasy department. Anything else?"

Jesse looked long and hard at Grace before answering. "I've always wanted to take a shower with a girl." Seeing the question forming on her mouth, Jesse answered before it was asked. "Nope, never. Some day, I guess." By this point, Jesse realized that anything he'd said to his friend would likely be forgotten in the morning, so he added, "I was going to ask you about that last one if things had gone, um, differently this afternoon."

Grace acknowledged the comment by saluting him with her beer; Jesse though he heard her say, "_Nice one_." A moment later, Grace rose shakily, saying she was going to lie down. Following a quick hug, another wish of happy birthday, and a passing kiss aimed for his cheek but landing on his ear, she disappeared into her room via a weaving path interrupted by an obviously painful encounter with the corner of the dining room table.

Feeling more than a little ripe from the hours sitting in the warm sun and a couple layers of suntan lotion, Jesse had been looking forward to rinsing himself off. He finished the last of his beer and waited until Grace had used the bathroom. Then, pushing the bathroom door shut, Jesse removed his clothes – nearly falling over twice – and stepped into the tub. The cool water felt good as it washed away the sticky lotion, sand, and salt left on his skin from the trip to the Cape. With the water drumming on his head and cascading over his ears, he didn't hear the bathroom door open and close, but a cool draft of air made him turn to check the shower curtain. It was closed but Grace was standing in the back of the tub; she was obviously drunk but wore a beautiful lopsided smile - and nothing else. One hand waved as if she hadn't seen him in days. The sight jolted Jesse, physically and mentally.

"What…? Grace what are you…?" he started to ask after a quick glance at her body. Then he stopped speaking. He was more stunned by the sight before him than he had ever dreamed he might be. The young woman was more than distractingly pretty, and Jesse was quite certain it would take a very long time to get the image of her out of his mind – if ever.

The teen's athletic build was very nearly intimidating. Her arms and shoulders, broad and muscular, were a testament to her years of swimming. Much of that tone carried down to her chest and breasts, though their fuller size made them _appear_ less firm than they truly were. She was at least a cup size larger than Leslie was, Jesse saw; he had expected that but he was distracted by the savory dark salmon-colored areolas and nipples to care. The cool mist from the water was firming both of them up and Jesse wanted to reach out and touch them and put his mouth on them, as he'd enjoyed doing with Karin…and Leslie.

He glanced down, below her naval, to her mat of blonde pubic hair. The shower water, pattering off his shoulders and the wall, was sending down a light spray, darkening it and then dripping away. Her most private region was hidden behind the broad, opaque wall of curls that was unlike Leslie or Karin's narrow strip of hair. And her legs, which had always been lovely, seemed perfect attached to the rest of the body. He was shocked even more when Grace turned, as if presenting herself to him for inspection (and almost falling twice) so he could see her completely. Jesse had never been an 'ass guy,' but he thought that might change.

This less-than-clinical evaluation of his friend's nude body lasted but a few seconds. In those seconds, however, Jesse had become fully and achingly erect. He was still facing mostly away from Grace, looking over his shoulder, a little embarrassed, but mainly in shock.

"Hi there….Can I stay?" she asked, swaying dangerously and close to falling down.

Jesse blinked and stood with an open mouth, unable to answer. Grace stepped closer and took a turn examining his body from the rear. "Well? Can I?" she asked again, running her hand from his shoulder down to his bottom. "Move over, it's cold back here."

Jesse turned away and moved forward half a step, still not sure what to do, if anything. For some reason he couldn't get his brain working properly. Then he felt two arms wrap around his chest and stomach and two breasts pushed against his back; it caused him to groan when the tip of his penis brushed one of Grace's hands as she moved them around. She started caressing his chest and abdomen as if she were washing him, but without soap. He realized that in the past half-minute he had become more sexually aroused than he had in years; it would take _very_ little for him to climax.

_Or would William Shakespeare be correct when he __wrote, "Strong drink giveth the desire but taketh away the ability"?_

Grace, he was sure, had never read that bit of The Bard's work and moved her hands lower. It was then that Jesse realized she had something on them, slick and vaguely familiar. But that thought was lost as she took hold of him.

Thirty minutes later, both sitting on the floor of the tub, Jesse, dizzy, drunk, and distracted, panted out a thank you. "I can't believe we did that, Gracie," he said.

Smiling, she scolded mildly, "Jess, shut up and enjoy it. Happy birthday." She then leaned forward and they started kissing again, Jesse alternating between his partner's mouth and breasts, she between his lips and ears. "Let's screw around some more before I crash," Grace said after a particularly stimulating combination of hands and tongue worked over her nipples.

Jesse stood and helped Grace up. He couldn't believe he was already becoming aroused again. While he turned away to shut off the water and fix the shower curtain that had been pulled down by their thrashing, Grace stepped from the tub and handed him a towel, shivering. "Let's go to my room, your bed is too small." It was true: Jesse had a twin and Grace a double, but the casual way Grace had invited him to have sex, or whatever it was they were going to do, surprised him.

Moving to her bedroom, naked and embarrassed that he was nearly fully erect again, Jesse watched Grace lay on her bed. She patted the blanket next to her and said, "Jesse, we can't fuck, I'm not protected."

Jesse stopped in the middle of sitting and trotted to his room, returning with three condoms. He set them on the nightstand.

"Only _three_?" Grace said in disbelief. Then he saw she was kidding.

Instead of allowing Jesse to lay down with her, however, Grace rolled over and sat at the edge of the bed, her face only inches from her partner's abdomen. She traced a finger down the dark line of hair between his naval and pubic region and watched as Jesse's organ moved up and down on its own, throbbing in rhythm to his breathing. Neither said a word until it had returned to a fully upright state. Then, in a voice that completely washed away any of Jesse's lingering doubts that Grace was inexperienced, she kissed it and said, "Can I…?" He just nodded and she went to work.

When it was Grace's turn, Jesse pinned her legs open and moved his face forward. He and Leslie had never really had oral sex, and his experience with Karin seemed removed from the present reality, so he wasn't sure how to proceed. Jesse licked her - and Grace obviously liked this. He felt her relax and start to breath more heavily, with moans and gasps of pleasure mixed in. The result was almost immediate as Grace began to gasp loudly and then put a pillow over her face. He glanced up and saw she was playing with her nipples, but not like Karin had. Karin could practically give herself an orgasm just by touching her chest. Grace required means that were more traditional.

A short while later, Jesse knew Grace was about to peak when she started bucking her hips, he continued and was soon rewarded by hearing his new lover gasp out as she climaxed. From his experience with Karin and Leslie, Jesse knew that she might be able to repeat, so he kept at her and felt it happen a second time only a couple minutes later. She screamed into the pillow but Jesse kept at her, now so aroused himself he craved nothing more than to screw his partner. He remembered she wasn't protected, but the thought of stopping and putting on a condom was so disagreeable that Jesse told himself he'd just give a few thrusts and finish himself off. After what they had done in the shower to each other, and themselves, it hardly seemed a letdown.

Sitting back, Jesse saw Grace's chest was still heaving with the last waves of her orgasm. He pushed her legs still farther apart and moved over her. Then he pushed himself in…and instantly realized something was wrong. Grace cried out, "Jess, _I said not to do that, damn it!_"

Jesse jumped back, terrified. He was pretty sure Grace was a virgin – _was that the problem?_ - but he couldn't recall her saying anything about not having intercourse. What should he do? Frantically, he started to apologize. To his relief, Grace looked calmer after a moment, though her face was still a mixture of discomfort and annoyance. "What can I do?"

"Nothing, Jess; don't worry. I was really stupid to think…oh, never mind. I'll be okay in a little bit."

"Um…is it because you've never…?"

"Probably. To be honest, I'm surprised I noticed anything."

"Huh?"

For the first time in a couple minutes, Grace smiled. "You're really clueless sometimes. I use tampons when I swim, and, uh, other things…on myself." Grace was blushing, though Jesse wasn't certain why. Karin and Leslie had always spoken openly about pleasuring themselves so he thought most people did.

"Maybe I should go to bed now," Jesse offered, and started to get up.

"No, stay, please." Rubbing her eyes, Grace yawned and sighed. "I guess we're done for the night, but I want you to stay." Glassy-eyed and obviously about to conk-out, she continued, "I want to give you a full day for your twentieth birthday."

This comment annoyed Jesse. "Grace, is _that_ all this was really about, a birthday present?"

"_No!_ Well, not completely." A mischievous look came across her face. "I've wanted to do this with you for years; you know that." She rubbed her eyes again and shook her head as if she was confused.

"I know." Himself feeling the effects of the alcohol diminishing, Jesse lay down and pulled the sheet up to cover them. "It's why I always tried to keep my distance."

"I don't follow you."

Jesse knew this was bound to come out, and sobered-up as he spoke truthfully. "Gracie, ever since that summer, I've, um, pictured us together…" He continued quickly, "but I think it always became sexual - not in a good way, like a long-term relationship. To be completely honest, having you here this past year drove me crazy."

Grace sat up, exposing her chest and looking hurt. She appeared decidedly young even though her body professed otherwise. "Jess, I'm sorry, I didn't…"

"No, not like that, Grace. I really do l-like you…I love you in some ways," he smiled at her sadly, "but I asked you here to get back at Les, mostly."

"Yeah, I know, you told me that last year."

He nodded and gave Grace another smile, this one very impish. "I think every time you walked around in that beige tank-top I went and jerked-off. Les and Kari never did that for me."

"I'm flattered…I think." Inside, she wished he had let her join-in.

Jesse turned serious again, which was difficult with a pretty, naked young woman laying a foot away. "I think I know why you're doing this tonight, Gracie."

"You do? Please tell me, because if it's something other than sex I'd like to know." Jesse gave her a severe look and she relented. "Okay, why do you _think_ I started this?"

"If we did this, um, it would make me think of Leslie."

Grace sat up and shrugged. "Maybe, but not intentionally…I was just drunk and horney. A bad combination." She paused. "Look, Jess, I've decided to, uh…I'm leaving as soon as my nine-month lease is up next month."

"_What?_ _Why?_"

"Oh, come on, you knew this living arrangement wasn't going to be permanent."

He opened his mouth but said nothing, not honestly sure what _to_ say.

"Besides, if you and Les get back together, you will never be able to love her completely unless you're over me."

"_What?_ That doesn't make sense, Gracie. How is screwing around with you going to – to…change…" He trailed off. His friend looked at him with a sad smile.

"Jesse Aarons, you even said it: I'll never be much more than a sex toy to you. We've both wanted _that_ for years, and we got it out of the way tonight."

"You're insane, Gracie!"

"Probably," she agreed, "but you don't want me any more, do you?"

Jesse sat in silence, thinking on the words Grace had spoken. In an odd, twisted and completely unfathomable way, she was correct. What he had with her had evolved into almost pure lust; the fact that they were friends was secondary. _The same as it had been with Karin!_ He shook his head. _How did I let this happen again?_

"Besides, we're too incompatible, Jess," Grace continued when she saw Jesse's face falling and guilt taking over. "I'm bossy and you're laid-back. I'm argumentative; you're conciliatory. I'm a neat-freak and you're a slo…uh, messy." They both laughed. "I came here, partly, to work it out between us. I promised myself I wouldn't push you. Wasn't very successful in that respect, was I?" Flopping back in the bed, Grace sighed and pulled the sheet up to cover her breasts. "I'm beat, Jess. We can talk more tomorrow."

Jesse smiled, leaned over, and kissed her gently, but only for a moment. Then turned away and clicked off the nightstand light. Seconds later, he enfolded her with his arms and pulled her close.

Grace was asleep in minutes but Jesse remained awake for a while longer, thinking about what had happened – but his thoughts kept drifting back to Leslie, realizing how much she gave him that Grace could not. And as much as he liked Grace, she could never even compete with Leslie. Why hadn't he seen it sooner?

_Because you're a horny bastard!_

Adjusting his hold, Jesse cupped each of Grace's breasts in his hands and held her tighter, feeling the soft warm flesh he'd lusted over for seven years. She sighed but did not awaken.

"Nothing," he whispered to himself. "Nothing at all."

And with those final words, he slipped from the bed and went to his laptop to write an email.

_A/N: Sorry for the long delay, I've been on call and busy with some personal things. The next chapter might take a while__ too, but this one was, if you will pardon my choice of words, the main climax of the story._


	14. Chapter 14: The Potter and the Clay

**Bowing Out Gracefully**

Chapter 14  
The Potter and The Clay

_Disclaimer: The world of Terabithia belongs to Katherine Paterson and her publishers.  
I'm just playing around in it for a while. Sadly, no profit can be received from this story._

When Grace appeared late the following morning, she found her flatmate, pale and sweating, slumped over the small table in the kitchen. A bottle of aspirin and nearly empty glass of water sat next to his limp hand. She had spent much of the past two hours in the bathroom, so even the _thought_ of taking a pain reliever nauseated her further. Wetting a hand towel, it was quickly warmed in the microwave. Then slumping into the other chair, Grace wrapped it around the back of her neck and placed her head down.

A minute later, Jesse groaned, "That you, Gracie?" A non-committal grunt was the only response. "What day is today?"

"Sunday, I think."

"Thank God I don't have class..."

Another pause ensued during which Jesse fetched his own hot towel and sat back down.

"Jess?"

"Mmmm?"

"We… What did…? Last night, did we, uh…?"

"Yeah…"

Grace groaned loudly. "I thought so. God, it hurts to talk, and I'm sore as hell but can't remember much." Then suddenly jumping up, she ran to the bathroom and vomited. Jesse yelled out for her to brush her teeth before returning. "_Fuck you, Aarons!_" was her reply.

_Already did that._ "Yeah, whatever."

Grace did not return to the kitchen, rather, a few minutes later she slumped onto the sofa in the living room. Gathering up what little energy he could muster, Jesse joined her.

Her words muffled by a cushion, Grace said, "I guess we need to talk."

"Yeah. Sorry."

"You keep saying that, Jess. I mean, whatever we did probably wasn't real smart, but I can't imagine it was your fault only."

Jesse nodded and over the next few minutes told Grace what he could remember from the night before, which was a good deal, but he presented it poorly due to the hangover. His primary memory was that he had had sex with his friend, and that she had been very upset about it. (Further, and irrelevant to that topic, was an email he had sent to Leslie. He dreaded the idea of reading what it said, now that he was sober.)

"Oh, shit…yeah, I do remember that." Grace went on to share her recollections. "I found some condoms on my night stand, Jess. Uh, did you use one?" When she saw him shake his head her complexion became even more sallow.

"I didn't…um, I came right out, Gracie…" _I'm pretty sure._ "Then we talked for a while and you went to sleep." He discretely omitted the last few moments they were in bed together and where he'd placed his hands. Besides, it seemed insignificant compared to their other activities.

Jesse's words jogged Grace's memory and she seemed to recall more, and calm down. "Okay. Crap, I can't believe this…"

Trying to cheer up his friend, Jesse said, "Hey, from what I can remember it _was_ fun." But Grace's look told him the joke was a flop and he apologized again.

"Don't be stupid," she snapped. "Oh…if I get pregnant…" She didn't need to say more.

"Grace, you're not going to get pregnant."

"Oh, right," she snapped, "I forgot this was your week to watch the _Oracle_ to see my future. Is that what you said to _the_ _others_?"

There was something especially discomforting about the way Grace said _the others_ and Jesse replied just as waspishly. "What are you talking about?"

"Never mind."

"Grace, it's impossible."

"No, it isn't, Jess. Unlikely, but not impossible."

"Well, if you're so worried about it I'll buy you a pregnancy test."

"Thanks…" _For nothing_ was the unspoken ending to that sentence, and Jesse finally lost his temper.

"Grace, it was a _MISTAKE_. This whole year was _one big fucking mistake_…" Jesse threw his hands up in frustration. "And don't look at me like that; you know it's true. We were tempting Fate yesterday. Neither of us is good at holding alcohol, and after what happened at Cape Cod, we should have known better. Can we just - I don't know - take this one day at a time?"

By now, Grace was in tears and looked even more miserable. Jesse left the room for a moment and returned with aspirin and a glass of water. Grace accepted them in silence and took the pills. It soon became obvious she was having difficulty keeping them down, but she managed.

The balance of the morning found the two avoiding each other, though more from lingering embarrassment than animosity, and by mid-afternoon Grace had apologized for her irrational outburst, but was clearly concerned about being pregnant. Jesse tried to provide distractions from events of the past twenty-four hours by engaging her in chores around the flat, and it worked reasonably well.

As dinnertime approached, Jesse noticed his cell phone blinking that it had a couple messages and he started dialing in to listen to them. Grace mimed that she would get Saturday's mail and went downstairs. Returning, she found Jesse sitting, looking at his phone, with an odd expression on his face – part amused and part surprised. "What's up?"

"Grace, did you get any, um, odd mail this week?"

"Huh? No, nothing…oh, wait…." Looking at the mail she was carrying, Grace extracted a thick, cream-colored formal-looking envelope; Jesse clearly saw the logo of Harvard Medical School on the back. "I wonder what this is?" she said. Jesse already knew. Her curiosity now peaked, Grace sat, opened the envelope, removed what looked to be a very formal invitation and read it aloud: "The Harvard University School of Medicine invites you to attend the annual Honors Ball on… What _is_ this?"

"Who's it from?" Jesse nudged, knowing the answer.

Opening the invitation, an embossed card fell out, but she ignored it to read what was inside. Jesse laughed when her jaw fell open, but stopped as she shot him a dirty look. So he helped her out some. "I have a phone message from an admirer of yours trying to get your number."

"This can't be happening…"

"Yup. The chauvinistic prick himself: Clayton Branch."

Shaking her head in disbelief, Grace mumbled, "No. No, no, no, no."

"What's wrong? The Harvard Honors Ball is _the_ formal event of the year around here. Everyone who's anyone attends."

"But…but…_Branch?_ Why would he ask _me_? Especially after what happened at that New Year party."

Jesse laughed. "Maybe that's exactly why. Jeez, Gracie, he fancies you. What's wrong with that?"

"He's still chauvinistic, Jesse."

"A chauvinistic _prick_," he corrected. Grace smiled. "Come on, give the guy a chance. Look, he left me a message that he was trying to get hold of you. Here, call him back." Jesse hit the Return Call button and handed his instantly horrified friend the phone. She shied away until they heard Branch answer. Jesse left the room at a rapid pace. Grace's stuttering was the last thing he heard as he went to strip his bed. As he pulled off the sheets, he started humming. Though he wasn't completely certain why, the events of the last few minutes left him feeling strangely euphoric. That lasted until some lingering memories of the night before cropped into his consciousness.

* * *

Two weeks later, Jesse and Grace found themselves eating a quiet dinner together at the flat. The intervening fourteen days had proven a number of things to both: First, Grace was not pregnant; second, Clayton Branch could be much more of a gentleman than his reputation suggested; and finally, the activities of Jesse's birthday had very nearly ruined his and Grace's friendship.

For Jesse, there was little time to dwell on any of these – except for the _not being pregnant_ thing. Final exams were approaching and the last few weeks promised to be more than difficult, academically. And Grace, after three tests had finally proved to her that she was not pregnant, gave notice at the Cambridge Biology Department of her unexpected departure and received word she would have a summer position at Saffron Labs in Woodbridge when she returned. Mrs. Hill grumbled and griped about her leaving, but just as quickly expressed her opinion about college boys and girls sharing an apartment.

As most dinners had been of late, this one was quiet and a little tense. Jesse made no attempt at small talk, other than compliments on the fine stew Grace had put together. Her only response was a shy smile. But both had big news for the other and eventually spoke up. Jesse first.

"I got an email from Les this afternoon."

Though he could not tell it, this revelation both delighted and hurt Grace. She looked up expectantly, awaiting more details.

"She replied to the note I sent, um, a couple weeks ago…when I was drunk."

"Uh-huh. What'd she say?"

"Not much, something like: 'Sunday, May 19, 1PM, the skunk place.'" In fact, it said exactly that.

"The 'skunk place'? Sounds charming. Where is it?"

Jesse smiled, thinking back almost a decade. "You know that place on my parent's driveway where you can turn a car around? Les and I were sprayed by a skunk there a long time ago."

"Nice memory." Grace went back to her food. Jesse ignored her veneer of immaturity. He knew she had been baiting him lately, almost testing him, to see if jealousy could sway his resolve to patch things up between himself and his former girlfriend. It had almost become a game between the two, and the only real playful activity between them of late.

Following dinner, and while Jesse was cleaning dishes, Grace went to her room and composed a few emails. She had been putting off a difficult one for two weeks: The explanation to her father and brother as to why she was leaving Boston. Tom had already written back asking if Jesse had "Done something." To this she replied, forcefully, _NO_. Al Jacobs, infinitely more tactful, skirted around the subject but asked essentially the same question.

_  
No, Dad (and Tommy), Jess and I are not involved and he didn't hurt me. In fact, he wants to stop by on the way home after school finishes…_

_I have a big 'date' next week with this odd med-student I know. He's the guy I told you about who throws money around at the local artists. He floored me by asking me to the Honors Ball at Harvard. Here I was thinking he hated me! I'm nervous. Jess said he'd chaperone if I wanted him to. I told him thanks but no thanks…_

_So, Dad, could you or Tom have the van up here by…?_

The letter went on for a while, but Grace had already written the important parts. When finished with this first letter she began another one. This second email was far more important. Then, hearing Jesse move to the living room, an indication he was done with the dishes, she looked over her shopping list and left to buy a gown for the Ball. This activity cheered her far more than she expected it would.

* * *

Two hundred yards and a manned security gate separated the old and decaying SSMH grounds from the new thirty-room RVSAC campus. Two hundred yards that often felt like two hundred miles. Three times a day, for sixty days, Leslie Burke had passed through the ancient double-fenced security position feeling like a prisoner. Southwest State Mental Hospital had been closed for ten years, but she was not completely certain it had been her imagination creating the nauseating odors each time she walked over to the meeting room from the Roanoke Valley Substance Abuse Center. A more likely explanation would be her withdrawal symptoms, symptoms her ever-decreasing dosage of meds hardly alleviated. Yet it was better than the frequent chills and vomiting she had experienced the first few days: Those had left her depressed and embarrassed beyond words. Some of the other patients at RVSAC (most returnees themselves) did little to make her feel welcome. Leslie Burke was, in their warped opinions, a _rich bitch_, and deserving of the life from which she was trying desperately to escape.

Every Sunday since she arrived in mid-March, Leslie's family visited for two hours, but strict rules prevented any of the patients from leaving the campus so on-site picnics were the usual distraction. Twice, May and Brian Aarons came along, but this only drove Leslie further into a funk that often took her days to work herself out of. She loved her neighbors dearly, but both - and Brian in particular - reminded her of their brother.

The only other close contact with the outside was an unexpected visit from Barb Keane's oldest sister, Jeanette, who was interning in Charlottesville. As a physician, she was allowed to take Leslie off the modest RVSAC campus, though they were still required to remain on the old mental hospital grounds. Jen filled Leslie in on happenings in her world and some of their mutual friends, but it was a bittersweet reunion. The eldest Keane daughter constantly reminded her of Jen's long dead sister, Teri, and the horrible circumstances surrounding her suicide. When her guest departed that evening, Leslie broke down and cried, curled up into a fetal position on her bed. And when she recalled Jesse Aarons' comforting presence at Teri's funeral many years before, the emptiness of her heartache threatened to engulf her: she was admitted to the infirmary, for two days, under sedation, as her emotional stability slipped away. This event, however, was a turning point for Leslie Burke and she began to take the final weeks of her rehab more seriously.

On this day, she carried her ever-present diary to share with her doctor. The last walk to her therapist was more than a formality, rather a necessary step to close out a bad chapter of her life. It was not the first time she had shared her written thoughts at the Center, and she was anxious to hear what the doctor would say. He was an avid reader with a memory as vivid as a young man she knew…

Long past her scheduled fifty-minute appointment, the doctor handed the diary back to Leslie and sat quietly for a moment. When he spoke, his tone was light and cheery, and it was infectious. Praise for her progress was genuine. Encouragement to participate in a support group was professionally forceful. And one final question was posed: _What would she do about Jesse Aarons? _A little of Leslie's cheeriness evaporated.

The following day she would be going home, arriving before Jesse returned from Boston. So the opportunity existed to prepare for a confrontation. The fact was, she missed him so badly it hurt at times, almost like when Janice Avery had died and she felt a part of her die too. Since seeing Jesse the previous Christmas, she couldn't count the number of times, earlier that year, she'd begun an email or picked up the phone. A couple times she had even started driving to Boston. She chickened-out the first time before reaching Baltimore. In retrospect, however, Leslie knew it was good she had waited. Her problems with drinking and sleeping pills had nearly cost her her life on the second attempt to visit when she wrapped her car around a tree at a rest stop, narrowly missing a picnic table of kids. Sixty days in Rehab ensued.

Walking back to her room, Leslie stopped inside the security fence and pulled a sheet of paper from her pocket. For the thousandth time since receiving it the previous month she read the odd words and wondered what they meant. It had been her first communication from Jesse Aarons in more than a year and he had obviously been drunk when he wrote it.

_GLes…wHY CAAant we CVBe fiends?_

She hoped he'd meant _friends_! Cursing Jesse, laughing at the same time, Leslie remembered: _Why Can't We Be Friends_, by War…Mrs. Edmunds…fifth grade…ten years ago…half their life ago.

Leslie was glad she replied the way she had. May 19th was only a few days away.

_  
A/N: Thank you for your patience. One chapter left, but no promises when it will be out._


	15. Chapter 15: Truths and Consequences

**Bowing Out Gracefully**

Chapter 15  
Truths and Consequences

_Disclaimer: The world of Terabithia belongs to Katherine Paterson and her publishers.  
I'm just playing around in it for a while. Sadly, no profit can be received from this story._

Spring was blooming throughout Boston in early May and the weather had turned delightfully pleasant. Jesse, down the street drawing, had only two exams remaining and chose to spend a few hours relaxing rather than studying. Grace was happy he was doing this too, he had been acting nervous and ill tempered the past week. She assumed it was do to his upcoming reunion with Leslie – not a difficult guess.

Looking out the window, she saw him in the distance speaking with another artist whom she soon recognized as Karin Bennett. Checking again a half hour later the tall brown-haired woman was still there, now with her easel set up. Grace smiled; Jesse had found some peace with _that_ relationship.

_Probably more than he'll find with me._

There was a great deal to think about after the events of the past few weeks. Her passion for Jesse, now largely extinguished, was suffering through the after-effects of the bungled liaison. The flatmates were polite, but something was missing in their friendship, something that made Grace's imminent departure feel none-too-soon. Her things were largely packed and stored away this week before she went home for the summer, and earlier plans to move everything back to Virginia changed when Mrs. Hill offered storage space for the three months at a reasonable rate.

Then there was Clayton Branch. Since receiving the unexpected invitation Grace had spoken with the man a number of times concerning the upcoming _date_, and each time they spoke she felt a little more comfortable about having accepted it. There was still a hint – the slightest trace – of snobbishness when they spoke, but it was never directed towards her and had faded to almost nothing the past few weeks. She was beginning to feel that the medical school student was using this false-persona as a defense mechanism. Their last two conversations had been long and unexpectedly deep – yet the feelings she was developing for him were still far from romantic. If she had to label them, she would say she was captivated with curiosity.

A couple hours later, Grace, who had fallen asleep on the sofa while working on a particularly evil Sudoku puzzle, was awakedby Jesse's return. A clap of thunder accompanied his slamming of the front door and cursing about the ill-timed storm. With her usual energy, Grace hopped up, looked at the clock, and saw she had plenty of time to get ready for the ball. She waved to Jesse and headed for her room. In five minutes, she was rushing into the bathroom to shower and start primping. Jesse caught glimpses of her over the course of the afternoon as she was transformed from her normal _pretty-but-casual_ look to an elegant young woman in a formal gown with French-braided hair.

As the time approached for Branch's arrival, Jesse would tease her by making faces or pretending she had brushed her pale blue dress against one of his charcoal drawings. Grace eventually ignored him and completed her preparations, now more nervous about spending an evening with Clayton Branch than the "Boston snobs," Jesse's moniker for the other attendees.

A knock on the door at five-thirty made Grace look as if she would jump out of her outfit, an occasion Jesse was certain Branch would enjoy. He let the man in and cheerfully accepted his hand in greeting, amused by Branch's own poorly hidden nerves. When Grace walked around the corner, Jesse watched Branch's expression, but it was the man's sharp catch in his breathing that spoke more about his appreciation of the beauty of his date than anything else. Even Grace noticed it and blushed.

The couple departed and Jesse returned to the living room to study. He felt an odd strain in his heart, having seen his friend off with someone else. The rendezvous of the previous month, in spite of everything, continued to leave him feeling guilty and aberrant. His memory carried flashes of Grace's breasts – and other more intimate parts of her body – that he could not excise, and in spite of his renewed desire to see and be with Leslie, occasional erotic urges centering on Grace Jacobs' body sent him hunting for the lotion in the bathroom.

Grace returned just after midnight as Jesse was heading to bed. By the expression on her face he could tell she'd had a nice evening. He started to ask about it but was met with his flatmate holding up a hand, palm facing him, saying she'd come by his room in a minute. It was three minutes, but she ran into Jesse's room – for the first time in nine months without knocking - and sat on the end of his bed wearing her typical nighttime attire: tank top and shorts.

"So?" asked Jesse. He needn't have bothered. Grace was obviously ready to talk.

"God, Jess, you were _SO_ right! The place was _full_ of snobs; _hundreds _of them!" Jesse smiled but didn't have a chance to say anything. "But Clay was the perfect gentleman. I met his parents…" Jesse arched his eyebrows at this. "…and his sister and her husband. They aren't like _that_, thankfully. We sat together and I didn't feel I was being talked at. It was refreshing."

Grace went on to describe the events of the evening in great detail, even as Jesse's eyes betrayed his state of near exhaustion. Finally, he heard her laugh and felt arms around his neck offering a light embrace; the light clicked off and the next thing Jesse knew it was morning. Over breakfast the conversation resumed, and for the first time in a month, Jesse felt reasonably content with the situation between himself and his flatmate.

* * *

Exams concluded on May 17 and the next day Grace's father arrived to take his daughter back home for the summer. To Al's delight, Jesse had requested a ride to Woodbridgewith them, offering to share the cost of fuel; it would give him an opportunity to observe Grace and Jesse together and see first hand if there was anything odd between the two. All his fears were quick to be erased, however, when he heard about Jesse and Leslie meeting in a few days. Grace's enthusiasm for the event suggested all was copacetic between them and they had survived the nine month period without major problems.

But the imminent reunion at the Jacob's house filled Jesse with some apprehension. Tom (and Madison) would be there and he was not certain if his friend knew anything about him and Grace. He suspected not, but the worry persisted until was greeted warmly that evening by Tom, Maddie, and Al's friend, Annie Thorne, whom Jesse had completely forgotten about over the past five months. Judging by the greeting she gave Al, their friendship had only deepened. Glancing at Grace, Jesse noticed she was rolling her eyes at her brother.

Following the reunion and unloading the car, the two adults disappeared into the study where Jesse had drawn the family Christmas portrait. The doors closed. The others, as might be expected, gathered in the living room and chatted. Jesse immediately noticed a change in Tom and Maddie, but most especially in the troubled girl. She no longer showed the signs of her abuse and acted like a _normal _seventeen year old with her boyfriend in tow. Her affection for Tom was more demonstrative and deep than it had been the previous winter. _That_ was something he would have to ask his friend about.

Not long after sitting down, Grace's cell phone rang and she jumped up to leave the room, bright-eyed and blushing when she recognized the caller ID. Tom arched his eyebrows at Jesse. "My sister have a boyfriend now?" he asked.

"Um…"

"Or a _girl_friend?" he teased.

"Tommy!" Maddie slapped his arm playfully.

"No, um, didn't she tell you about this guy we know?"

Tom smiled and admitted he knew a little about Branch, but his efforts to discover more were impeded by Jesse obstinately refusing to share anything beyond a couple superficial comments. "It's her business; ask her yourself," he repeated. But even when Grace returned he learned little more.

When the lengthy catch-up session was over, and Tom returned from driving Maddie home, the two young men sat in the kitchen sipping beers and exchanging more stories about their lives over the past five months. To Jesse's dismay, Tom seemed to know about his upcoming reunion with Leslie. When he asked how, Tom produced a saccharine smile and replied, "That's her business; ask her yourself." Stymied and thwarted, Jesse abandoned the topic.

The next day, Jesse parted company with the Jacobs, but not before finding some time alone with Grace. Their meeting in the back yard was a little awkward, but both put on the best face possible and the final goodbye was warm and caring. Jesse invited Grace to visit him when she was settled into her dorm, but doubted she would accept. He could tell her thoughts were turning more and more towards her new friend in Boston, and that was fine, too.

Maddie was riding to Charlottesville with them to help Tom move the last of his things from his old apartment; he had been accepted at Virginia Tech, and come September would be living in Blacksburg. Jesse welcomed the bubbly teen's presence, if for no other reason than to distract Tom from asking any more questions about Grace. When dropped off at the bus station, they gave him a warm farewell. Tom promised to visit Jesse's family, only an hour away from his new school, and Jesse was far more certain _that_ promise would be kept.

The final leg of the journey home took a seemingly interminable five hours. The bus line used back roads, stopping frequently at every small town. When it finally arrived at Baxley (Lark Creek's stop had been eliminated a couple years earlier) Jesse saw May waiting for him, driving their father's old pickup. Although the fifteen-year-old was underage, Virginia rural law enforcement was lax for farm vehicles – as long as the driving was safe, and the Aarons family had a good reputation. They embraced. "Hoping for Leslie?" asked May when they broke apart.

The question caught Jesse by surprise, and irked him, too. In fact, he had been too focused on their reunion the following day that he never even considered the possibility. "Um, no." May suspected otherwise.

It was dark when Jesse and his sister drove past the Burke home and down the lengthy drive to their own. Jimmy Burke was on the porch swing with Brian Aarons, the two friends acting silly and playing out some sort of Three Stooges routine between fits of laughter. It was hard to imagine that Jimmy had nearly died seven months earlier. He was still thin – too thin – but appreciably better than in December. As the truck stopped (with a jolt!) Jesse noticed, for the first time, the resemblance between Jimmy and his sister. But his ruminations were almost immediately disrupted by the boys waving and yelling hello. Shortly thereafter, Jack and Mary Aarons appeared and greeted him, and with little less overt enthusiasm.

A late dinner preceded a family gathering in the back room, but Jesse thought it felt oddly empty without Brenda and Ellie. Brian fiddled the entire time while he shared stories of school and friends, mentioning Tom Jacobs moving nearby. He wasn't sure if his parents found his friend's promised visits a wholly positive event to look forward to. They _did_ seem happy to hear he had settled down some over the years.

At some point Jesse knew he would have to bring up Leslie. He did not know if his parents were privy to the news they were meeting the next day, until his father said he needed help on the farm, and then added, "You'll be done in time for your date." Seeing everyone smile at him stirred up more butterflies than delight.

Then, without warning, Brian distracted everyone by declaring, "Leslie's going to college!"

"Hush, Brian Joseph!" their mother nearly shouted. "That's for Les to tell Jesse about."

"Okay…but she…"

"Not another word, young man." This time the youngest Aarons remained quiet.

* * *

For whatever reason, Jesse slept fitfully that first night home. When he was finally able to sleep his dreams left him disturbed and anxious. His father woke him at five to start the chores, and though little rested he was glad to be rid of the guilt he had assumed in his dreams about Grace and Karin.

By five-thirty, with only the faintest hint of pink over the eastern mountains, Jesse walked to the farm with his father. It was a long and silent journey. And it was mountain-cold, much colder than it would have been in Boston. His light jacket barely kept him from shivering.

Entering the barn they met Bill Burke – who had obviously been up for a while – sipping coffee and fiddling with the tractor's recharger. The old electric drive on their John Deere had long been surpassed by more efficient (and more expensive) fuel cell powered motor, but the two men refused to buy the upgrade until absolutely necessary. Based on Bill's expression that upgrade would be sooner rather than later.

Leslie's father greeted Jesse warmly with a handshake and embrace, leaving the college student feeling comfortable for the first time since returning home. He noticed Bill was a little greyer and leaner; hardly a surprise considering the new line of work he was in, but even vexed by the tractor Jesse could tell Bill and his father loved the work they now performed. In general, Bill managed the financial aspects of the enterprise, represented the Co-Op, mediated disputes concerning prices, and paid the bills. Jack Aarons, returned to the life he had enjoyed as a youth, ran the farm. Mary Aarons and Judy Burke worked together in the less physically demanding areas, primarily the single large garden used to grow specialty vegetables and fruits. May, Jimmy, Janice, and Brian tended the cows and chickens. Seasonal hired hands – and today, Jesse - shared the harder workload with Jack.

Using crop rotation plans first drawn up by Thomas Jefferson, the farm had two or three hundred acres growing crops every year while one or two hundred lay fallow. These main crops provided the primary source of food and cash for the families. As there was always extra, the Co-Op developed to sell or exchange the surplus with local families. The original cash-and-carry system soon changed into a barter system to save money, and the entire dual-family approach was so successful it had become a model to others in the area. Many lost arts such as milling, canning, and preserving quickly revived.

It was Bill and Judy Burke, however, who played the most masterful role – if not the most physically strenuous - in the two families' joint adventure: They kept Jack Aarons involved and occupied so thoroughly that he seldom had time to consider the millions the Burkes had laid out for the initial investment. A prideful man, Jack worked long and hard to carry his share of the load. The upper-lower class Aarons' family would never be wealthy like the Burkes, but they were all well provided for and comfortable to a degree they had never known.

Jesse began the day helping his father change the batteries on the tractor – a task requiring far more brawn than brains. Jack explained to his son that they needed one more day of dry weather before plowing, for the soil was still too wet. They would spend the morning checking the various attachments and inspecting the dirt berms that protected three sides of the fields from two large creeks. It had been a long time since Jesse had thought about the creek and Leslie nearly dying. Its mention distracted him as his father talked on.

At eight o'clock, a bell rang in the distance and Jack, Bill, and Jesse headed to the Aarons house for breakfast. Jesse had seen May milking the cows not long after he'd arrived that morning, and on the table was what appeared to be freshly churned butter: a large one-pound chunk of yellow fat! Bread his mother had baked the night before was in a large loaf. Pancakes, syrup, and coffee were on the table. Behind them, on the counter between the kitchen and dining room, were a steaming pink ham and a large kettle of grits.

Amazed at the spread of food, Jesse didn't notice the rest of the Burke family enter until Leslie sat across from him and cleared her throat. She gave him a smile and a nod. Jesse felt his stomach flip; he was quite certain he had never seen Leslie Burke looking so beautiful, even with a slightly disheveled _I'd-rather-be-sleeping _look. Jack Aarons cleared his throat and Jesse's attention returned to the others, now all seated and holding hands; he started a brief before-meal prayer. Jesse's attention returned to the now blushing young woman across from him, indifferent to the snickers and requests for pancakes and syrup around him.

When his senses finally returned, Jesse managed to greet the rest of the Burke family and ask how they were doing. Leslie excused herself after only a few minutes saying there was something needing attention at home. She thanked Jack and Mary for breakfast and then looked directly at Jesse. "See you at one, right?" she asked. Jesse nodded his head jerkily, feeling much like a thirteen year old preparing for a first date.

Mary, Judy, and Janice remained behind when breakfast was finished, but everyone else strolled back to the farm to continue their usual pre-noon chores. Through the balance of the morning, time seemed to drag for Jesse, but sped past, too. He had seen Leslie again – once - as she ran to the barn carrying some pails. On her way back she gave him a wave.

The earthen berms surrounding the fields needed little work so Jesse spent a good deal of time talking to his father about school. Never a big conversationalist, however, Jack Aarons mostly listened and nodded in response to his son.

As noon approached, Jack stopped Jesse, who was now talking almost constantly - and very fast - telling him to head back to the house to shower. Jesse did so, passing through the dining room May was setting for dinner, the main meal of the day. Twenty minutes later, cleaned and more restless than ever, he went back downstairs to find the house again filled with the two families. But it was almost one and with barely a wave, Jesse headed out. Unseen behind him, the two mothers shared knowing looks.

* * *

The _skunk spot_, as it had come to be known over the years, lay halfway down the Aarons' drive and just out of sight of both friends' house. Jesse arrived first and fiddled with the stem of a wild rose bush as he waited, counting and recounting the seven small leaves beneath each bud. The sounds and smells of spring distracted him enough that he didn't hear Leslie approach. "Hi, Jess," a quiet and cautiously optimistic voice said. He turned.

"H-Hey, Les, how are you?"

Both feeling a little more apprehensive than they hoped they would, the former lovers stood a few feet apart. Leslie wore a casual outfit: a light tank top and shorts. Jesse was in a very old pair of holey and faded jeans and a ratty t-shirt. Leslie thought Jesse looked leaner and a bit scared. Jesse, in spite of his best efforts, could only admire the beautiful woman his friend had grown into. Leslie reached out her left hand. Jesse instinctively took it and they drew them together, holding each other tightly.

Leslie spoke first in a troubled and halting voice. "Jess, I-I'm so sorry. I-I…"

"Shhh," he stopped her, deciding immediately that she had nothing for which she needed to apologize. Weeks before he had forgiven her, and even started to blame himself. "I'm sure we've both done things we regret."

A long peaceful interlude ensued; neither letting go of the other, neither speaking. But the time flew past and they could not ignore Jimmy and Brian running by and acting like annoying younger brothers. Jesse shooed them away. "So, what now?" he asked when the siblings were gone.

"Can I kiss you?" asked Leslie shyly.

"No."

Startled, she looked up to see Jesse's devilish smile and then, for the first time in almost two years, their lips met. After a moment they heard voices in the distance singing: "_Jess and Leslie sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G_…" When Jesse started to yell at them, Leslie pulled him back and resumed the previous activity.

An hour later, the reunited couple walked into the Aarons' house to find a bite to eat. They were greeted by both mothers and May who had just finished cleaning up. A plate of leftovers for each of them sat on the counter. Self-conscious about appearing as though their reconciliation was instant, Jesse and Leslie had let go of each other's hand before being seen. Once again, however, they were victimized by the boys chanting in the background, "_We saw Jess kiss Leslie._" Judy and Mary remained respectful, but May kept peeking around the corner expecting to see _something_. Leslie finally gave her a pleading look and the teen ran off giggling.

With the adults present, conversation was stifled for a while, but the two could not remain silent for long and started chatting about a wide range of subjects – none of which touched upon their personal lives over the past twenty-one months. That would come later, and when their trust for each other had been strengthened.

Around four o'clock, and with various family members coming through the house, by unspoken agreement Jesse and Leslie went outside and started walking towards the path leading to the spot where the long-gone rope swing once hung. It felt completely natural when they took each other's hand again and swung their arms while ambling slowly forward.

"Wellesley College," said Leslie following a long silence, and in answer to a question she knew was on Jesse's mind.

"Huh? _Oh_…Wellesley. It sounds familiar. Where is it?" Try as he might, Jesse could not keep disappointment from his voice. Since his brother's unsolicited comment at dinner, he had been harboring a growing anxiety about restarting a relationship and then having it broken up for the same reason as it had nearly two years before.

"Jess!" laughed Leslie, "Wellesley is in Boston. You don't think I'd make the same mistake twice, do you?"

"B-Boston? _Really? _Um, why Wellesley?" Without realizing it, Jesse had stopped and pulled Leslie around by her hand so they were facing each other.

"It's one of the best Liberal Arts and _Writing_ colleges in the country." Then she paused and smiled warmly. "And it's near you."

Feeling much like he was melting, Jesse pulled his best friend into a loving embrace, and both held on for a long time. Leslie wordlessly broke away a minute later and led Jesse to the bank of the creek where they sat watching the water swirl below. "This is the spot where you saved my life, Jess." A quick glance told Jesse how much the trees had grown in the past decade, though the bank of the creek had eroded into an unfamiliar shape and the tree that once held the magical rope-swing was now tilting precariously, waiting for one more good wind storm to knock it over completely.

"Yeah. It was worth saving." He felt Leslie clinging to his arm. "Les, do you think it will work this time…us, I mean?"

"I never thought we didn't work, we just got…I don't know…sidetracked. Besides, I was the one who stopped writing and calling." Leslie sniffled and Jesse could tell she was sobbing. "I can't believe…the stupid things…I did. Getting hooked…on sleeping pills and alcohol. Thank God I went into rehab. I've learned a lot in the past few months…" Jesse shivered involuntarily as he realized that the things he'd learned during that same period had been of a very different nature. "…A lot about myself."

"Yeah, I guess we both did."

Another long silence ensued.

"So, um, do you…I mean, where are you living this fall? On campus?"

"Haven't decided yet. Grace Jacobs is starting at Cambridge; maybe we can get a place together."

"Uhh…"

"We'll see. Is she hard to live with, Jess?"

Pure panic filled Jesse's mind and he barely was able to squeak out, "You _knew_?"

"Mm-hmm. Rather brave of you, I thought. Having someone that cute around you all the time."

"Oh, um, no, we were hardly around each other the first four months. She worked long hours and I had class. Usually we hung out at night….I mean, we saw each other more at night than…_Oh fuck!_"

_An interesting choice of words…_ Leslie laughed and said she understood. Still, she enjoyed a small amount of amusement with Jesse's misspoken words. "Don't worry, Jess. Maybe we should both adopt the 'Don't ask, don't tell' policy in regards to the last two years."

All for that idea, Jesse instantly agreed and nodded rapidly.

"I know! You, me, and Grace could get a place together!" Leslie watched as a look of horror crossed her boyfriend's face. "Nah, that wouldn't work," she continued, having pity on her now hyperventilating friend.

In an attempt to change the subject, Jesse turned to Leslie and pulled her into a passionate kiss. She responded immediately, and in no time he was feeling his body react to their actions.

"You know," said Leslie, breaking away and caressing his face, "I'd suggest we find a place more private…but this really isn't a good idea. At least not yet."

"Okay, you're right. Sorry."

"Don't be. And I'm sorry for teasing you." Leslie lay back thoughtfully; Jesse soon did likewise. "Jesse, I love you, and I want this to work. Do you?"

"Yes! Of course. Do you even need to ask?"

"I do. I have to know…" But she trailed off unsure of how to continue.

"Do you think two people ever _really_ know? When they're right for each other, I mean."

Leslie rolled on her side and spoke the next words with care. "Maybe not a hundred percent _all_ the time, but I feel that way now…about you…about us." The smile on her friend's face proved his agreement.

* * *

Jesse's original plan was to stay home for two weeks and then return to his old summer job in Boston. As each day passed, however, he realized how difficult it would be to separate again from Leslie. So, three days before he was to leave, the couple took a long walk into the hills to talk more about their future. The brilliant May sunshine warmed the cool morning air as they climbed a small hill, heretofore unexplored, and sat in the shade of a copse of fir trees at the top.

Even though both knew what they needed to talk about, the topic was worrisome and they avoided it, concentrating instead on kissing and watching the sun peek through the branches above. Leslie lay with her head on Jesse's leg and shivered as he ran a hand gently over her face, arms, and chest. After a few minutes, she felt Jesse's hand slip under her shirt and caress her breasts. She turned and wordlessly placed her hand into his shorts and started massaging him. Shortly, Jesse threw his head back and Leslie felt him ejaculate into her hand. When he had caught his breath and looked into her eyes, she saw a fire and desire she'd missed for so long.

"My turn," Leslie said. Then slipping her shorts and panties off, she giggled at the look of surprise on Jesse's face and put his hand between her legs. Leslie was glad he had not lost his touch over the years, though she still enjoyed guiding and assisting him until she climaxed. Through clenched teeth, she cried out his name. Dizzy with arousal, she collapsed, spent and satisfied.

Jesse's face appeared above her as her vision cleared. "I love you, Les. I don't think I can leave you again. But I have to make…"

She shushed him with a hand over his mouth. "I have an idea about school this fall, Jess."

Over the next few hours, Leslie and Jesse spoke of things they had not dreamed about for two years. Some of the topics were difficult, some easy. In the end, however, both felt better about what they were going to be doing for the next few months, and long afterwards, too. As the sun was lowering to the horizon, they headed back for supper.

At the Aarons' home, Mary felt Judy Burke's arms wrap around her from behind and laughed easily at the younger mother's sigh of relief. They had been speaking of their children's renewed friendship as the afternoon turned to evening. Jesse and Leslie had been gone for hours and only a dim glow over the western rises remained of the daylight. "They're okay, Jude; they've been hiking these hills for ten years."

"Oh, I hope it works out. Those two are _so_ meant for each other."

"Yeah, and they'll figure it out, I think." Mary pried herself loose and sat at the kitchen table, her heart racing. She wiped away a sheen of perspiration and sighed heavily. When she tried to pick up a glass of water with her left hand, she couldn't get it to work properly.

Judy sat next to her looking concerned. "You okay, Mare? You look pale." But Mary waved it off. "Okay…"

"Middle age is taking its toll is all."

Skepticism was plain on her face as Judy sat and took her friend's hand, but she did not press the issue. Mary Aarons had been looking worn down for years. She needed a long vacation. And what Judy was about to reveal probably wouldn't help any. "Mare, Leslie told me, if things work out between them, she wants to move in with Jess…up in Boston."

Mary tensed, though not out of shock: It was obvious Leslie had chosen Wellesleyto be near Jesse. "I can't say that's much of a surprise, Jude. I hope they take the time to make sure it's the right step first. Does Leslie want to pull an Ellie-Toby, or live in sin?" Resignation - and a bit of sarcasm - was thick in the question, and Judy took a long ten seconds to answer.

"Les promised me I could give her a nice church wedding, so they'll probably stick to fornicating."

"Ugh…Another battle with Jack." Mary plopped her head down on her folded hands.

"Mary, I can…"

"No," she waved Judy off, "it's not like Jack and I haven't discussed this. To be honest, I think he's expecting it."

"It's not like you two failed, Mare. Bill and I…"

"Failed at what?" two voices asked, startling the mothers. Looking around, Mary and Judy saw the couple in question at the door, holding hands. Both women tried to speak but were preempted by Jesse. "I know…_we_ heard what you're talking about, mom, Mrs. Burke. Leslie and I have already figured it out. We won't jump into anything, we promise. I'm not going to go back to Boston for the summer," Jesse stated with confidence. "I'll stay and work here, on the farm, and if Les and I feel it's the right thing to do we'll share my flat starting in September. We can have a small, private civil service to, um, get, um, legally married…in August. After we graduate we can do a full church wedding…thing." Jesse stopped speaking, looking rather thunderstruck at what he'd said.

Leslie continued for both of them: "If that's okay with you, mom, Mrs. Aarons…and our dads."

Mary opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out. Instead, she and Judy both rose and embraced their children. It took a great deal of effort to _not_ act overjoyed that the two were a couple again. When both mothers caught the other's eyes, there was an understanding that all would be well.

* * *

May, June, and July passed with varying degrees of excitement and apprehension, and Jesse never regretted his decision to stay home for the summer. The weather was generally uncooperative in the Valley that year and an extra experienced adult went a long way in helping his father and soon to be father-in-law maintain the hope of a respectable harvest. Every day, Jesse and Leslie could be seen together, from before dawn to dusk, usually working, sometimes disappearing into the woods or cooling off their feet in the North Creek. From the outside, the two families saw the couple reunited – permanently. On the inside, however, both spent a fair amount of time debating their plans.

Jesse was the more apprehensive of the two, with many voiced uncertainties about Leslie's plan to foot the bill for their flat so he would not have to work. The impasse was finally broken when she insisted that the money she'd earned in Hollywood had always been for both of them. Jesse acquiesced and the issue was settled.

In mid-August, Leslie Burke and Jesse Aarons were married in a small civil ceremony. It took place on the bank of the creek next to the spot where Jesse had saved Leslie's life a decade earlier. Only the two families were present, as well as the town Justice of the Peace who performed the three-minute ceremony. As Leslie had promised her mother, _the big church wedding_ would take place when they had both graduated college.

Returning to Boston as a married man, Jesse Aarons had to expunge scores of memories and exorcise more than a few ghosts from the flat, particularly when Al and Grace Jacobs showed up to retrieve her things from storage a few days before classes started. Noticing her husband's discomfort, Leslie listened to Jesse later that evening as he confessed to some of the more intimate details of his previous year in Boston. But the confession was unnecessary, Leslie assured him. She had long ago guessed at his activities with Grace, a revelation that left Jesse speechless.

"But Jess, I told you back in May, I knew we both had done things we were ashamed about. It didn't matter then and it doesn't matter now."

"I-I know…but _how_ did you know…about Grace…and me?"

"Tom."

"Tom? Jacobs?"

"Yep. Last summer I asked him to plant a seed in Grace's head about moving in with you. I knew she would either get you herself, or help us back together. Of course, I wanted us back together, but I knew you'd have been happy either way, and that was the most important thing to me."

Jesse frowned. "But…I _didn't_ want her, in the end, Les. What if it had backfired?"

"Then…I don't know. If you remember what I was going through last summer you'd see I wasn't thinking very clearly." Nodding, Jesse recalled the events perfectly. "Right. I tried emailing Grace in September but she refused to correspond. Maybe she realized what Tom and I had done. I didn't hear from her again until a couple weeks before you came back to Lark Creek."

Astonished by the revelation, Jesse sat and tried to make sense of what Leslie had done.

_And Grace knew, or suspected, it was Leslie pushing her on me?_ Jesse felt a sudden surge of affection and appreciation for his ex-flatmate. In spite of all the odd machinations going on, she had kept her head and been honest with Jesse all year. Only that one night, and under the influence of alcohol, did they slip up. _And she did turn me back to Leslie once and for all…_

For a long time, neither Jesse nor Leslie spoke. It was not the best way to start a marriage, Jesse believed, but at least everything was now out in the open. _That was something I should have done months ago._

* * *

Two years later, Jesse graduated from MassArt. The following year (and a year early) Leslie finished at Wellesley. Anxious for the formal public wedding she had promised her mother, Leslie Burke married Jessie Aarons in early June at the Catholic Church in Lark Creek.

A reunion of their old high school friends a couple nights before the ceremony was particularly interesting. Tom Jacobs and Maddie Keane, who had recently announced their engagement, were present. Arriving right after her brother and future sister-in-law, were Grace Jacobs and Dr. Clayton Branch. Jesse and Leslie knew they would soon be announcing their intents also.

Other friends, family, and acquaintances filled the small church to share in the couple's joy. Particularly satisfying to Jesse was seeing Al Jacobs attend with his new wife, Annie. All of Jesse's sisters and brother took part in the ceremony. The reception afterwards, held outside the church, was largely from the bounty of the Burke-Aarons farm and contributions from many of the attendees. The entire afternoon looked more like a church picnic rather than a formal wedding reception, but that was exactly the way Jesse and Leslie wanted it.

THE END

Dear readers, thank you for your patience over the past 6 months; the realities of life and work have reduced my writing time to almost nothing.

I want to acknowledge Madtom's, _The Wonder Years _reunion script, for a tiny part of the plot in this chapter…Did you catch it, LP?

Best wishes to all of you and prayers for a safe, happy, and prosperous 2010.

Rick (IHateSnakes)


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